Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

The roosters are coming home.

Every single one of them.

What they forgot is that we are where we are by design.

Where they fail to understand or see our worth, we know it to be our worth.

Nothing we touch is by accident. We decide too what we touch.

So it gives me great joy to see the roosters coming back to where it all began.

How they forget too about yesterday is a testimony of how they will act tomorrow.

The thing though is that we never forget. We forgive, let it go, and move on, but we watch and listen now to them as they crow by design.

We say high, they go high. We note low, they do so too, all for measly reasons that pales in comparison to our divine being.

We are absent for a reason too. Know need reminding ourselves of how low people will go when they see water now turn to wine. People are always predictable too. Not us. Not when we came along because the one who began this is a gentle force, totally kind and generous as life can be. For him, we fully became dreamers. We are forever grateful he saw our worth, sharpened it, lit a fire on it, so that every single spark you see today is because of the grace he personifies.

For him, we are moving to a quiet storm phase of this thing we call formalized curiosity. There will be no words.

He will lead this and we will follow his lead in our quiet way.

For the rosters, it brings me great joy to sit and watch you crow at last, as I turn on my own, as always, in this quiet storm phase of my life.