The Coming of O

An unfortunate truth

A painful request of self.

To push away what one selfishly loves

To understand not everything can one wish to have and see

Especially Art, one must let it be

Much like a muse you cannot keep

Somethings must be sent back into the deep

The depth of Olokun’s sea

In the depths, it must be

The Universe within me wasn’t ready for thee

A constellation I was not meant to see

So I cry to Oya to comfort me

To make me a tree of life so I may be fertile for She

To feed and to make merry from all the love within me

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