POSSESSION

I am told of greatness,
men who've lived twice a life each day,
men who paused to plant their earth their own way,
I am told of peace,
times when stillness rubs passionately with the wind,
times when angels enchant newborns and sing,
I am told of love,
free, unaccounted for, and summoned,
pure, unknowing, and mindless,
I am told of purpose,
some rigidly devoted to it's customs,
consumed entirely by the light unseen,
I am told of commitment,
logic and things that taste like metal,
rhythm-less, but intact and balanced,
But I,
I am a misguided particle,
without face or intent,
without genius to invent,
without sin to repent,
without hazard to prevent,
a lonely one man symbol in a banished verse,
that would have been made into a song,
which would have been realized in a book,
that would have contained my soul,
I am a grain under a well,
poor children drink from, and I can tell when I am well,
Because it comes to me,
they call it poetry,
a great hand submerges in the water to find me,
it sheds it's shade of shadow around me,
my shell is cracked open like heaven's gate,
fierce light traces the proud yellow moon,
I gasp for wisdom and violently begin to consume,
I cry words, I lie truth, I feel used, possessed loose,
I know nothing,
though darkness has taught me something,
profound profanity and lusting,
women, lies and hypocrisy,
ego, music and vanity,
But it comes to me,
they call it poetry,
I drop at it's feet like a faithful servant,
like a child with a broken rib,
like a pet seeking attention,
or like a loud tear,
I cannot refuse it's will,
I am a captive in it's cage,
made a slave by it's rage,
made a man by it's page,
but it comes to me,
I can't say why, how or when,
it comes around like now and then,
I submit like holly men,
without resentment or reserve,
without reason or response,
I cannot refuse it's will,
I am engulfed by it's flames,
it's fire is my friend,
and my enemy in the end.

By K'naan.