Nature Poem by Tunji Ibrahim

Sitting in the air without the fleshy adequacy of gutsy trueness, flickering the sun off my shoulder with the tip of my finger, the moon in the grip of my palm throwing light upon the secret of man, blowing wind from the gust of my breath, swallowing the rain and pouring water at will to fumigate the nauseating gunge of the tyrannical cords and their ne.plus.ultra-of-negativities, scuffling in the dark surf of my shadow to vomit the night upon the earth at the flux of day, the mute-eulogy of the gumption of my scope validates the perpetual blend with heavens, whence my large creative hand authenticates the infusion of assorted varieties.