This is for those whose hands fight with paper, who bruise and abuse it with a pen at their fingertips, those with ash on their lips from the fire in their lungs that fuels the fumes that burn their words, fire flame spiters. You are the heat beneath the feet of those that dance to heart beats in tune with African rhythm. You speak lightning so your voices are thunder, your minds are a new dawn of a revolution. Your souls ink the thoughts that incept greatness from your consciousness. You know the wisdom in silence because at times loose lips overflow with foolishness.
This is for those who embrace the pain, your shouts will echo into eternity, your life is not plain, you see a shape whose curve goes into infinity and not something round. From letters you make words from words, sentences you spit verses that build poems your tongues curves and rolls mould life and death in your mouths, you speak hope, you speak love, hate, more, less, good, bad, Ying, yang, curse, bless, rawness.
You, are the dreamers.