What grounds me? Where do I branch? What keeps me rooted?

Perhaps I should ask the wise owl, who sits on the branch, grounded in the branch itself.

Perhaps I should ask 50 Cent, who asked 21 Questions until he asked the question of whether his lover was mad at him for asking the other twenty.

But I’m over 20 years old, so I’m over 50 Cent and his Questions.

Perhaps I should ask the Devil, who asked the original question. But a question must always lead to an answer, one that is deeply personal to me, and the Devil is impersonal. The most brilliant lie he ever told was that he didn’t exist, because it was the truth. There is no reason for me to invest my faith in that which doesn’t want to see me in the first place, if I’m looking for answers that aren’t cancer, pestilence, and all the other things he brought upon the world. But that’s the world we live in today. A fallen state. So perhaps I should ask the Devil, the one who brought us down, how we can lift ourselves back up. It’s not a matter of putting my faith in Satan or becoming emotionally attached. It’s numbing my five senses to unlock my sixth. My intuition. So I could navigate the storm of lies that is the world and find the one piece that I can contribute to make everything fit in the end.

If Lucifer was perfect in all his ways, the Light Bringer, then I’ll ask the old Him, if there is light in the darkness, if he was a Sun of God.

Then I’ll ask Ernest Hemingway if The Sun Also Rises.

I’ll ask the Russians if they love lyricism and shun poems that don’t rhyme, and they’ll give it to me straight that what the Americans call blank verse translates to white poem.

And whatever’s white, be it the Army against which they revolted, they’ll dye Red. They’ll die for the Red. They’ll die for that Red and Black, the house with the cheddar stack, and the smiles on their kids’ faces, like Ja Rule and Murder Inc. in the Destiny freestyle. They’ll be black and white and red all over, because they’re the news. And the news is nothing new.

So I keep myself grounded in the ocean, the ship that I steer the lone degree of separation between us, as we navigate these treacherous waters together. Come aboard and bring along all your hopes and dreams. Together, we will find everything that we’re looking for. One Piece. World Peace. The world is in pieces, and we’re each looking for a piece of it to make it Mosaic. Not prosaic. Mosaic, as in of or like Moses, who knew it from the beginning, but just needed to remember it in his present incarnation. So until then, let’s enjoy our vacation. I’m going on a cruise on 12/14/2025. I’m not kidding.

Blank Verse

Lucifer Wrote This

What grounds me? Where do I branch? What keeps me rooted?

Questions, questions.

Perhaps I should ask the wise owl, who sits on the branch, grounded in the branch itself.



Blank Verse

Lucifer Wrote This

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