as i walk through the pages of the revolutionary past,
i ponder on the nature of man and his world
i think of his desire to be freedom
i think of the violence created in his worldly mind,
i think of his rationality to this creation.
as i read through the darkness of night
losing sense of time and the the world outside the walls of my room
i am being drawn into a trance where the words i read are soaked in meaning.
i am numb like the dead to the pricks of life.
i am not myself
i have allowed myself to be something else..