To Launch a Dream with a Flame

“To Launch a Dream with a Flame”

Daddy said that “You cannot waste time.”

Told me, “You can get there with drive.”

Mama said, “Child, you’ll be fine

just long as you hold on and hone in,

and don’t forget to aim through the sky.”

They both reminded me that I would be alright

“You got it? Repeat it. You’ll be alright

You got it. Repeat it, you’ll be alright with time.”

In current, affixed, examining an optic prism

Traveling ideas within dimensions of prime

creative wisdom on lock

369

Anything that ain’t mine refracted from the center

Enter like feet don’t stop as does hands grabbing favor

at every moment and its hours later

For infinity and beyond, I’ll still be here

Surpassing slew of objective like I have to

Pick up what I put down like my calling is in queue

still strapped with my junior Olympic track shoes

In case it’s time to high jump or hurdle over internal noise

Long jump through the void sand in sock

Pissed with the atmospheric pressure

Space tsunami crashing

Creating symphonic discord before the blast off

Even as heart quavers

Performance during the uncomfortability like the roof caved

Dad a carpenter

Mama beautician

means the path’s been paved for building

Centaur yet chilled with the feeling

Honestly, blaze and puff pink runtz stuffed no blunts

Just Organic hemp wraps

Let time lapse as I get busy on paper

Psyche pumped like Awanus and 7 sages

couldn’t even put out my glow, even if I was dunked in pond

I’ll still figure out a way to make a move

Flow outta cage in response

Up at night eyes buck as owl trying to figure out how’s

Gurgling words into action

Everlasting as life saver—solid and flavored

Reminisce like back in the day

When I was afraid of no one

Remains that way

On path I’m psycho

Not without laughter I carry Hughes as Bible

when thoughts get twisted

To Quilt a Black Eye Pea when I’m lifted

Progression in cycle

Destiny written I’m all facts spitting extract

That is until my time is exactly up

As I have grown, my mission has been to practice

Mastering the stabilization of my equilibrium

teetering between galaxies amazed in head space

Dreams drafted via Venn diagram attempts to calculate

How much force it takes to launch self into the abyss aiming at aspirations

Endured nights, illustrating the exasperated whys crammed within my cranium

Aggregated passions propelling me into inertia

Built as a black hole

Billion stars Black as matter

Quasar after spark

Since I was a young person, I’ve been intrigued with holding heat inside of my hands.

Have had thoughts like, All I need to be a superhero is a plan and a spark.

Tippy-toe height I’d rise, spotting 4 eyes, red, spiraled on top of the stove. I planned

peering at my target, an eye, beaming scarlet without a pan or pot. My mark

in the world, my chance—was now, I’d rev and pop the eye like the head of a conga,

Caused my palm to puss into the pattern of my pretensions. Red handed, I was.

Heart ambitions as bramble flared in premonition. Blazed with fantasy. Wondered

once a spark is started what happens beyond the initial ignition? Buzzing

internal discourse. Home in body handling humidity. Treated as host.

Kindling engulfed me, yet, I remained in silence. Focused in a blissful state.

My daddy noticed me holding my wrist freighting a load on my brain. When he spoke

I was able to sense frustration in his body language. My gaze—intact, straight

Mesmerized by portal opening paths. Dad asked, “What’s gotten into you?” Forced laugh.

I responded, the flame. Plain he told me, “Baby, the fire you already have.”