Can You See God?

It was late, near midnight, and I was in the library, trying to finish a paper whose deadline (midnight) I wouldn’t meet anyway, and overdosed on coffee to the point of mentally hyperactive discomfort. The paper I was writing was far less exciting for me than the project of passion that I was working on simultaneously with the team over a long distance: the Solitaire EP.

Moving to California for school caused a lot of complications and coordination problems with the Vision Inspired team back in Ghana, not least of which was the 8-hour difference between us. This was early in the morning in Ghana, around 7 or 8 am, and Tronomie had just sent me a Whatsapp audio of the final arrangement of Dear God part 2. He hadn’t slept all night. Of course I halted my work immediately to listen to it. And. I. Loved. It. I think that was the moment I actually began to get excited about the whole EP. I think this is how Tronomie became my favorite singer. The only person who loved it more than I did was my manager/CEO, Ekko, who had, as usual, offered his creative input and direction – in this case, his suggestions had worked such that Dear God had begun to sound not just like two songs, but like three.

Before these Vision Inspired Magicians did their surgical sorcery to Dear God, it had existed as a classically angsty Akotowaa spoken-word-on-beat with all the enthusiastic anger my performances are known for.

“I feel caged by expectations, grades, examinations, the range of practical occupations” – Akotowaa [Dear God]

And it was very short – barely even 2 minutes long. Also, it wasn’t supposed to be part of the Solitaire EP. Ironically, now that Tronomie is on it, I think it’s the longest Solitaire track.

When I got the “final draft” of Dear God, it was the first time I’d heard that final bit of the song; the Ekko addition that made the song sound like three instead of just two. The aim of all the light production and the BVs was to end the track on a sonically significantly happier note than the one it began with. When Ekko asked me what I thought about it, I said, truthfully, that the sound I was hearing did not fit my perception of something that should come out of God. (And for those of you who still haven’t gotten the clue that Tronomie is the voice of God on this track, here’s your chance to pretend like you knew it all along.)

As horrified as I was to admit it, it was true. Despite my intellectual awareness of the complex nature of God, I still had a fixed, streamlined vision of Him in my mind – one that was very much captured by the production vocals Tronomie had created at the beginning of Dear God part 2. The sudden, powerful drums. The vocals swinging through crescendo and diminuendo to give me the impression of a dark room, smoke and an invisible, invincible, untouchable, out-of-reach force. That was God. The sweetly-singing “Love me” person just wasn’t adding up to the one whom I’d heard sing before him, in my brain. Problematic? Indeed. (Ironically, I had written the lyrics, and I don’t know how I expected the words “love me” to constantly sound booming and menacing, more like a command and less like a request.)

I had another poem in the works by this time, one I was to perform at the VIM concert on the 23rd of December. It was supposed to be a Christmas poem. I’d been working on it for a while but it didn’t seem to be going anywhere. It was one of those unfortunate projects that felt like everything that was coming out of my pen was trash. I was trying unsuccessfully to turn the Biblical story of Jesus’ birth into a poetic narrative, but it lacked any meaning I could identify… until after this incident with being asked about how I felt about the end of Dear God.

When I began I See God, I didn’t know it was going to be my Christmas poem. It was merely a story I was telling of a man who could only see the harshest side of God, being introduced to the loving image of Him. The God of John 3:16.

“I see God in the rolling thunder,

The crashing of the waves and them pulling under

Everything that cannot withstand

The fearful power of the ocean’s command” -Akotowaa [I See God]

In the beginning, this fictional man’s rant to the stranger who has joined him seems harmless. You see God as impressive and powerful; is He not these things, anyway? Will every knee not eventually bow to him whether it desires to or not? But then later, you start to see how destructive this kind of image, when held in isolation from the whole nature of God, begins to get.

“I see God as an icy God

A block so cold proximity burns

A rock so old it doesn’t age

The God that sent Egypt the plague

…A God that, by nature, pushes people away.” -Akotowaa [I See God]

When this carries on, the image of invincible power turns into an image of unbridled cruelty. Such a Being becomes unapproachable and incapable of love, much less getting others to love Him. He is indeed a God who pushes people away. A Being like that is someone I’d be careful to keep my distance from because I’d be terrified of what He could do to me if I even breathed the wrong way.

The stranger whom the man in my poem is showing his God off to remains unimpressed. You can tell that the man who spoke was proud of his speech. The might of his God probably fed his ego; made him feel special and conceited, for belonging to a religion whose God would effortlessly smite the gods of any other person’s religion. I can only imagine how he expected the stranger to look at him with starry eyes, envying this man his religion and even fearing him a little for being a worshipper of Someone so fearful. But then the stranger says to the man what I would now say to myself:

“Your God sounds like a terrorist

A God without rhyme,

A God without reason

A God that only knows the harshest season

A God of power but not of love

A God as a vulture, never a dove

The God of the flood,

But not of the rainbow

That’s the God that most of us claim to know.” -Akotowaa [I See God]

The question, as I was thinking of all this dialogue between the two men, was where had I seen evidence – plain, undeniable evidence – of the loving, soft God that would croon “Love me” softly to me? Where could I find evidence of the John 3:16 God who “so loved the world that he gave His only begotten son…”? Well, in the circumstances of John 3:16, of course!

If God loved us enough to send His son to save us, in what manner would His son be sent? In a tornado, perhaps? The falling of the sky? For goodness’ sake, this is the entrance of Jesus we’re talking about. Jesus, who is a son of the terrifying, all-powerful God; Jesus who is himself God. Surely, the earth would at least quake a little. But Jesus showed up in a way I’d have never, ever expected an omnipotent being to show himself to mankind: naturally, as a baby, naked, small and defenseless, pulled from a woman’s vagina into a manger. It really doesn’t make any sense. If you showed me a naked, newborn baby and told me that he was God, I’d probably laugh in your face. Interestingly enough, that isn’t what the shepherds did. I would really love to know what those guys were thinking that night. I wonder how difficult it was to accept everything that they were experiencing.

“What if he looked naked?
And quiet?
With the facial features of an Israelite
With baby skin not made of iron
covered in blood and prone to crying
The one who made us in His image
taking our image and making it His
defying your notion of a superhero
and speaking to people just like this?
A lamb to complement my argument for the lion
the one who forgave and healed and saved
and became a shoulder to cry on” -Akotowaa [I See God]

Yes, God is mighty and supreme. It is impossible to ignore this aspect of Him. But God is also meek and humble. It is impossible to ignore this side of Him. To hold the image of a perpetually angry and mean God will push you away. However, to ignore Him as a supreme holder of power in favor of the loving image, to believe that every single thing you do would be looked upon favorably no matter what, will also condemn you. Be careful how you see God. I do not have enough expertise in theology to explain this to a greater extent yet, but hopefully you understand what I’m saying.

When I stopped to think about it, that image of a superpower-less, naked baby countered my perception of a solely huge, unapproachable and severe God. And since the circumstances around this were the ones for which Christmas is celebrated, well, I finally had subject matter for my overdue Christmas poem.

I merged I See God with the as-yet-titleless poem I’d been constructing, and I’m happy to say that I wrote a poem that would have changed (some part of) my life if I hadn’t written it myself. As a matter of fact, something about my life (i.e. my vision of God) did indeed have to change before I could even write his poem. I’m proud of I See God. I think it’s excellent content-wise. (The sonic quality is questionable, given that it was recorded on my phone, and the VI guys did their best to enhance it so that it didn’t sound entirely like trash. Shout-out to Reynolds TheGentleMan for the dope production!)

I don’t know how many people have the same problem with how they see God as I did. Whoever they are, wherever they are, I hope they somehow get to hear I See God and be as impacted by listening to it as I was by writing it.


For complete lyrics of Dear God, click here.

For complete lyrics of I See God, click here.


2016 to 2017: Semi-Scattered Reflections & Projections

At some point, it is impossible to deny that change has come to your life, because things that are impossible to ignore suddenly become consistent occurrences where you couldn’t have even fathomed they’d be before. For me, that change came through Vision Inspired Music, especially in 2016, when I became particularly active both within the formal record label space, and out of it.

In 2015, I was kind-of-a-spoken-word-dabbler. It was a casual thing. A few people knew me. It was okay, I had minor attention. However, in 2016, I became one of the spoken word artistes. (Or at least that’s how it felt. The tons of people who have no clue who I am may beg to differ.) I don’t even think I can finish listing all the ways I realized this was true. I became somebody whose name, when put on a poster, actually had the potential to attract people. I became someone with one of the coolest spoken word videos people claimed to have seen from Ghana (Anti-Indoctrination). I influenced people to write. I had poems and blog posts dedicated to me. The thank-you-for-this-piece messages on my social media pages became longer and more heartfelt. While casually listening to the radio, I’d hear my name, and some Ghanaian poet or the other giving me praise or a simple shout-out. Then lo-and-behold, I brought myself with “spoken word on beat” with IWITP, the response to which nearly made me leave social media because I was so overwhelmed. (The follower numbers on my pages won’t reflect this because quite a lot of the attention came from people who don’t follow me and probably won’t either.) But perhaps what got to me the most was all the random people I didn’t know from Eve or Adam meeting me in both likely and unlikely spaces, freaking out like “Are you Akotowaa?!” and sometimes even asking for a picture with/of me. Listen. I’m not used to this. I don’t ever think I’ll get used to it. And it happened like, all year.

To top everything off, at the end of the year, I dropped my first ever major spoken word project, Solitaire EP, and that is when I saw that I have fans. Paa. I don’t even know where they came from. I don’t know why they like me like that. But the support I received pre-Solitaire was insane. As in, it hadn’t even dropped yet. They hadn’t even heard it yet, oo. But my goodness, my fans showed up for me in a big way. Especially on Twitter. ❤ Let’s not even talk about post-Solitaire drop reception. The number of times my Twitter crashed should already tell you something.

And yet, now that all this (2016, Solitaire etc.) is over, I have something to more or less publicly admit to myself/confess. I am tired. I have actually been tired for a while – specifically of performance. I am not exactly sure what about performance I am tired of. I admit that 2016, despite everything, was tough for me psychologically. There was, of course, the fact that for the first half of it, I was in a deep depression that I’m only just fully coming out of. That high school experience is probably one of the most major things I will always want to block out of my mind for the rest of my life. Like, it only hit me this week, after experiencing my healthier, non-miserable self for a while, what an absolute effing mess I was.

After graduation, VI Music took center stage in my life. I think I see the problem now; work with VI was a diversion of focused energy rather than actual rest. Of course, it was a focus on something I actually liked and wanted to do, and it gave lots of spice to my life. I love Adomeezy, Ekko, Tronomie, Robin, Rey (when he’s not stealing 48 chocolate bars from me) and Souza! Yet, by the end of the summer, it felt like I was being required to perform every day or every other day. It felt too like there was nowhere I went outside of my house that people didn’t recognize me and that was exhausting. And of course, when strangers recognize me, they recognize Akotowaa the performer more often than Akotowaa the human being – which they really can’t help and I don’t blame them for – but on my part, I think it turns me into a social performer as well, because I end up wearing the character of Akotowaa the performer even when I’m off stage. Exhausting.

Don’t get me wrong, though; even though I didn’t recognize my need for rest then, I still wouldn’t change a thing about how everything post-graduation went down for me. Except VIM Concert, which I shall get to in a minute. I think all of what happened had to happen to set the Akotowaa ball rolling so that I could rest. At this point, I am pretty sure that if I get quieter, I won’t simply fade to inaudibility. (Yo, that was an Ephemeron reference. Did you catch that?) I recognize the need for rest even more fully now and the clinching factor was…The VIM concert, on 23rd December 2016.

My manager-bae, Ekko, who is also VIM CEO wrote a long-ass emotional blog post about the effect the concert had on him and how audio art got him out of it. However, here is what the VIM Concert did to me: it deflated me. I had what I think was the worst performance of my life, doing “Dear God” off the Solitaire EP with Tronomie. That was an embarrassing nightmare. I won’t go into details about circumstances leading to its potential to have been terrible and how it could have been avoided; those I have gone over in my head and with VI already. But for the performance itself? I couldn’t hear the music. I couldn’t speak on the beat. I stopped and started several times and still couldn’t keep the beat. In my opinion, Tronomie flopped way less than me. He sang off key, but at least he was bloody on the music. Anyway. I blocked it out partially from my mind after I laughed it off with Tronomie when our sets were done. I was frustrated, but I socially performed for the rest of the night. Then when I got home later, unable to sleep because of the still-fresh jetlag, I had the biggest breakdown I’d had in months, between 2am and 6am. I tweeted a bunch of classically depressive-Akotowaa stuff during this time, and I’m embarrassed about that now, but God bless @PaapaMusic for helping me through it all in my DMs. He’s such a wonderful person. I’ve developed new respect for him since then.

That breakdown was a highly exaggerated compounding of all the tiredness. I hadn’t been feeling the thrills of performance in months. Not since mid-summer. Even the few performances I did in campus settings when I got to college, though they certainly gave me a reputation, did not really give me joy. In fact, the night before the VIM Concert, I had a conversation with my manager about my discomfort with performance. So to come back and have a performance composed of faeces just threw me off the edge. In the moment, I thought I wanted to retire. What I needed, however, was a break. Retiring is silly. I know I’m a good performer who has the potential to be an excellent performer, and I know my words and art impact people. So I will continue to grow into an excellent performer. Just…after I rest. 🙂

A while ago, I made a comment on Twitter about how when one is multitalented, one’s life will have seasons, and that is okay. It is. So for me, as far as I can see, the year ahead of me is the season of Ivana Akotowaa Ofori, the writer. Much more than it is for Akotowaa, the performer. The fact that I’m more or less in a year-long exile from Ghana only aids this agenda (yes, Accra, you won’t see me again until December. I only just left but I miss you already).

I intend for 2017 to be writing-intensive. Who knows how many novel geneses, novellas, poems or even spoken word pieces could come out of this? An anthology could be born. Heck, another spoken word project may even get lyrically conceived from beginning to end. Who can really tell? To those keeping tabs on me through primarily social media, I’m not really sure how evident this change of focus will be, since writing is such a solitary act and I’m not yet sure how much of it I’ll share. In fact, I don’t even know if all that I’ve said about how my life was in 2016 was evident through social media. The important thing is that I specially feel these changes in my own life, so it’s all good.

OMG. I talk a lot. But I’m also on a 10-hour plane flight as I write this so I get time waa.


Reciprocation (So, Learn To Love Without Expectation)

You have a heart
larger than
the average man
can handle;
are more intense
than any woman
has ever been told
she was.


You are intimidating.
Have you yet
come to terms
with how you will
always give more
than you receive?
Because holding in love
is a hazard to yourself.


You lose nothing
from feeling deeply,
So, learn to love
without expectation;
it is all that you can do
to save yourself
and now that you know,
it will not break you.

Excellent, 2017

I’m surprised I haven’t seen as many new year resolution blog posts this year. Are we just tired of declaring things for ourselves that we can’t stick to? Anyway, that’s besides the point. What’s interesting though, is that more than defined goals, at least 3 people I follow have more of central themes than anything else, for example, a word or a virtue, like “peace” or “joy”. I realized I kind of do the same thing – but I use songs. In 2015, my theme song was Lecrae’s Anomaly. In 2016, I didn’t explicitly choose a theme song, but I guess it unfortunately ended up being Sia’s Unstoppable. I wrote a blog post on it, which I am not eager to re-read, because those were depressing times.

This year’s song just happens to be the appropriately titled Excellent, 2017 by Sho Baraka, off his latest album, The Narrative. Every song has a year attached to its title, and this one is perfect for this purpose. [Side-note: Please listen to The Narrative. It’s great stuff. My favorite changes, but for now, it’s Love, 1959.]

“Hat on top ’cause we think excellent

Frames on straight ’cause I see excellent

Dressed for success ’cause I be excellent

Everything we do, everything we do”

I chose “Excellent, 2017” to remind myself not to settle for less than what I am capable of – because I feel like I have been doing that for a while. And also to remind myself that I need to make excellent things and be excellent because I was made excellent by a God who is excellent.

thenarrativeIn 2016, when Tronomie became my best friend, I invented the word “swagblocking” just for him. At first it seemed like he was just cockblocking himself, but then I realized it extended beyond that context even. He refuses, to this day, to acknowledge nearly anything about himself which is cool. (And that’s everything about him, by the way, because he’s an amazing human being.) So he was swagblocking himself. Speaking down on his own genius, for no apparent reason. And it was ridiculously annoying until I realized I do it too. Now I’m not okay with that.

What really sparked my discomfort is the realization that my influence is growing. An increasing number of people now have their eyes on me, either because I interest them, they resonate with me, or they generally admire what I am doing. Now, the more my influence grows, the more unhealthy my giving in during my battles with my inferiority complex gets. There are several reasons why. For one thing, I cannot imagine the nasty spiral my psyche would take if I kept this up, believing that every single compliment I receive is a lie. The compliments keep getting longer and more heartfelt and there’s going to be a destructive, consuming war within me if the self-deprecation simultaneously augments.

Another thing is that I’m a freaking lexivist – an activist/advocate for word-related things, and I want to actually help people to go forward with their word-related endeavors. AS I said, there are far more people looking up to me than there used to be, and I’m going to be no help to them if I consistently refuse to acknowledge my own abilities and achievements. Then I become a dormant resource, which completely defeats the “activism” part of “lexivism”. So the swagblocking gotta go.

But the most important reason why it gotta go is that it stops me from being excellent. Swag-blocking is being defeated before one has even started. When you begin by believing you are “not that good anyway”, chances are, you will not be able to push yourself into creating art that is anything better than “not that good anyway”. It’s entirely unhelpful when you are, like me, aiming for excellence.

“Art on high ’cause we make excellent”

I am on a mission to become the person I want to be – the person I believe I was meant to be. I’ve found that I waste too much time. It takes far too long for me to bring my ideas to fruition, not because I’m meditating on it, but probably because I spend hours a day scrolling through timelines. And it’s made me realize I’m letting a lot of opportunities pass me by. This must stop.

I’ve decided that I’m going to take my writing way more seriously. Like my life depends on it. Which it does. Well, the career part of my life, anyway. I need to be writing like I actually plan to get published. Because as much as I love words, I must admit that I half-ass things a lot.

Additionally, I’ve discovered that I’ve been passively running away from things I’m too scared to try. Like making new friends. Asking people for favors. Buying books that I want. Saying things that I mean. Being a rapper. Starting a YouTube channel. Learning videography. In IWITP, I said “I just wish I could have been bolder.” In 2017, I am saying, “Well then, be bold now.” A huge part of all this is learning how to not be scared to fail. It’s entirely possible that I could fail at any, none or all of the things I bother to try. The important thing is not, as they say, to at least have tried; for me, the important thing is, if I fail, to have failed excellently. Even trying can be half-assed, you see. But I can only fail excellently if I tried excellently.

“If you’re reaching for the top, you better learn to survive

You can either fall or fly when you’re reaching for the sky

Fly excellent

Or fall excellent

But never quit

Never quit”


Why I Won’t Bloody Let You Say “Good Morning” at 2am.

I’m coming to rant about something that’s actually important for a change, so you better pay attention. This is a very important discussion you need to be having with your deluded friends and family members.

I’ve said it several times and I’ll say it again: 2am is not morning. Do not say good morning to me at 2am. On the night of December 31st, I went to church and predictably came back in the early am’s of 1st January 2017. Around 2am, a radio show was happening on Joy FM, and its host greeted its callers with a “good morning”. Sitting in my dining room with my parents, I objected, “But it’s not morning!” My parents wasted no time with their rebuttals. Of course it’s morning. Couldn’t I see that it was past 12am? Now, if my very own parents who raised me have been sucked into the lies, what hope is there for you random people on the internet? Allow me to lead you to the truth. In my opinion, it’s very logical and easy to follow. And now that I’ve wasted enough time on an unnecessary introduction, let’s get into it.

There are 24 hours in a day. Ideally, for example in the case of a solstice, there are 12 hours of day and 12 hours of night. Bear in mind that the word “day” means something different in the 1st sentence than in the 2nd sentence of this paragraph. The first consists of all the hours that a timeframe such as “today” can hold before it turns into “tomorrow” – 24 hours. The second simply means the portion of that 24 hours that isn’t night. Daytime. Have we got that? Good.

So, if ideally there is equal time of day (in the 2nd sense) and night, then it only makes sense to use, with the help of the celestial bodies, the hour of 6 as a marker. In other words, 6am to 6pm would be day and 6pm to 6am would be night. And this is just the major 2 divisions I’m talking about so far; we haven’t even gone into breaking down the sections within day and night et cetera.

We have a whole lot of words. Morning, afternoon, noon, evening, dusk, twilight, dawn, midnight, daybreak, sunset, sunrise etc. Let’s not even get into which meals are eaten when. The ones I want to focus on here, however, are “dawn” and “midnight”. Because the way I see it, you simply cannot get away with saying that 2am is morning, from whichever angle you look at it, as long as the angle is logical. But first, back to “day”.

Of course, when we have gone past 00:00am, we have officially entered a new “day” in the first sense of the word. This does not necessarily mean that all immediate times after 00:00am constitute daytime. No. We are still in the night. Because remember the 2nd meaning of “day”? Once we have established that half-split 12 hour system, I think we can then agree that it makes sense why 00:00am should be called midnight. It is obviously the middle of the 12-hour night period that begins at 6pm and ends at 6am. In which universe does it make sense to go from “midnight” to morning? Sweetie, where did the other half of the night go? Common sense should tell you that if half the night came before the middle of the night, then there’s another half remaining.

Now, to this issue of dawn. Dawn, as far as I know, is the rising of the sun, or the intermediary period between loosely defined night and day that precedes morning. Precedes. Which clearly means that morning cannot come before dawn. Dawn, I would say, is averagely between 5:30am and 6:00am where I live. But imagine the inconsistency in your thinking if you go straight from literally midnight to morning, to dawn, to morning.

I’ve finished explaining. If by now, you don’t get it dier, I don’t even know. Please don’t say “good morning” to me at 2am. I’m nearly guaranteed to go off on an unnecessarily long series of explanations as I have just done. Let’s just save each other’s time. Thanks.


When Your Male Best Friend Becomes Someone Else’s Boyfriend

Author’s note: I experienced an overwhelming desire to go and look for this thing that I wrote in my journal at the beginning of 2015 (I can’t believe that was two years ago!), due to sentiments I experienced today that reminded me of the sentiments I had while I wrote it. In fact, the subject of this entry is the very same as the recipient of my spoken word letter “Ephemeron“.  I haven’t edited it. All the saltiness of that time deserves to be displayed in it. Also, I feel like you can tell that my 2015 voice is different from my 2016 voice – but maybe that’s just me. For some reason, I think I’ll be psychologically freer if I share it. So I quickly typed it up a few minutes ago, and here it is.


When Your Male Best Friend Becomes Someone Else’s Boyfriend

When your male best friend becomes someone else’s boyfriend, you should know beforehand that a lot of things are going to end between you. I’m sorry. Not even your “best-friendship” can save it. It’s gone. A lot of things that weren’t important are going to suddenly become big deals that blow up in your face. A lot of things that merited the utmost importance are suddenly going to fall into the category of “trivial” – at least for him.

And half the time, it’s not even his fault.

But he had the power to save the friendship, and he didn’t.

Actually, it’s always his fault.

No. It isn’t.

But don’t get mad at her. Of course it’s all her fault, but also, it isn’t. It’s the fault of the desire to possess, to seek the merit of priority, to own everything. Power. Relevance. Megalomania. It’s not her fault. She’s new in the system. She had no idea what she destroyed. She can’t feel it. It wasn’t even her intention to destroy anything in the first place, you know. It just happened – and it’s not a recognizable problem in her world, because she’s happy.

When your male best friend becomes someone else’s boyfriend, a lot of things are going to end. Like your gradual refusal to keep employing the title “best”. Like the amount of time you even spend being friends. Because you are female, every hug between you is infidelity. Every look longer than five seconds is infidelity. Every shared inside joke, every tickle, every poke, every phone call longer than five minutes is infidelity.

When your male best friend becomes someone else’s boyfriend, a lot of things are going to end. He won’t continue to tell you everything because he doesn’t owe you all of his honesty anymore. You won’t tell him everything anymore, because why give out everything when you can’t get anything back? When he becomes her boyfriend, he’ll look for you less. You will wonder if it’s because he’s suddenly left the social circle and then you’ll see him with her.

You will get tired of being neglected and you will confront him. He will acknowledge that he is at fault. He will acknowledge that there is a problem. Then he will begin to say “hi” to you two more times in the week than he usually does – and nothing else will get done.

Eventually, you will give up because you can see that he is happy. You will feel like a selfish jerk for resenting being abandoned for his own happiness. You will also resent others for telling you that his girlfriend is more important than you are. You will get tired of being told that when you find your own significant other, you will understand. You will get your own significant other. You will still not understand.

When your male best friend becomes someone else’s boyfriend, you will wonder when the precise moment in history it was that the strength of ordinary friendship lost its value.


P.S. I found the genesis of the actual poem Ephemeron, only a few pages before the one this post itself was on. I was looking for numerous ways to express myself. I didn’t actually finish Ephemeron the poem until more than a year after I began it.

It’s so interesting to see Ephemeron’s genesis. LOL