Oh, to Follow You.

Tranquility in the form of a verbalized epiphany
Underscoring the validity of your view
Submission in the form of a commissioned gratitude
I ask not what I know but how to follow you

Prophetic are
 those visions picked out
of a Maghrebi Bazaar,

With hints of Oriental Satire
Muddled in the socialist smoke of a Cuban Cigar,

I do not ask who you are…
But fumble around in the dark,
Your voice the only sound,
Your ignorance….is profound,
I do not question who we are,
But only how to follow you.