Prisms Poem by Adeosun Olamide

Feeling so, the colds exhale
And too the suns burning heat-
We search for ragged coats,
For memories to stir a symmetry
We whisper to ourselves,
Are we immortals?
-Less than the ordinary?
-Capable of feelings?
Is it weaker, the flesh or heart that permits it, -melts us?
But floating in the dark, in silence,
Some low moments finds us, gripping us-
And they stay, unending- drowning us,
Causing us to rust and hunger for one-
To waste our energy, break our will
And demands we break our walls.
It is God, jealous, casting upon us lower forms-
Asking how so we are incapable of love, affections-
How so without being fed it, we are content-
And so demands unless we break the walls,
-We remain endlessly drowning,
So we break the walls so one can come,
To reach us, to save us and render us in debt
But we know he brings to us, one he seeks to destroy,
For though pulled us out, it is not into the emptiness,
-Neither the silence nor the dark we have always floated-
There is the savior, put with, -an undesirable company
We tender us in our most raggedness,
-Someone, someone to flip through these pages,
But he undistracted by its raggedness,
And though blank, engages the emptiness
With a sweet silence,
That we must swirl further, asking too much,
-For impatience and wavering,
To be all,
Cold, warm, summer, winter, still, stormy,
A bud we sometimes can touch,
And feel a slight cut, that sweet feeling of brief pain
And other time, softly as though a bud,
Beautiful, we can suffocate, crush
And when touches us-
Carrying fire for the warmth we clamored,
Freezing that heart for us, laying cold
We do, bearing us- that ours is a prism,
A curse we have become-
Unable to make a point,
To says things clearly,
To act beautifully,
To appreciate a sacrifice,
To love,

But bears these, this dearly- willing to be unloved-
Loving us in our withered form,
That when we perish at sun rise, stirs us life-
And when exhale most heat, bears the scalding-
Distraction, distracted by, from the clouds,
That we love the sea often, and be ready to sail-
Leaving all behind, heeding our clamors,
But prepared, follows
For sometimes in the sea, I love to sail alone-
And have shown by casting the company into the sea
And registering most often-not a murmur
I return and - bringing it back here-
Yet watches, keeping no foul feeling-
And heard not-I am the most terrible listener,
And my responses demands a life time-
But do gently I tell, your murmurs within you,
And when, put on a veil of indifference
-Ask for the key, and I shall let you out-
-To perish in the storm

But I do by denial, denying this truth,
That perhaps some roses are thorny,
And I am too, too a prism with sharp edges
Along the walls, empty shells, hollows that we are
Bearing feelings for this company,
Watching it blend into the emptiness,
That without its exhale, the silence is harsh-
And I know, not wanting it to be lost,
-Hoping too maybe to be the part it said,
The part It says it needs- to be complete