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I’m shrouded by a force similar to all of the inner womb’s love and patience—right at the instance of the new-born entrance of this unpredictable reception. I’m alive as the welcome in this very place—overwhelm by a high spirit of something else I can’t explain. Unsure of the greetings up top the steps into Haiti—otherworldly powers presents all sorts of strange feelings, natured with a beautiful confusion that enlightens me with colorful surprise.

Of all the elevated glory I’ve heard about incarnation: I believe I’m blissfully caught, in that Coming-To-Life spell during this heavenly newness. Newly wrought in my latest birth—with a spectacular something, this intense awe and virginal glory can’t explain—Haiti seems all good to me, while I enter the bosom of its wondrous mystique. Far flung into its mystical no where—while at its mountainous gates: how can I not—childishly fall for its obscure fantasy, puffed up on bright mysteries, that’s vaguely aura with the complete silence the muted thinking of the soul studies—at this Creole birth. As individual eternal happenings can be—from womb to inner earth: I’m up top the underground of this ancient glee—come to life as an Ayisyen. This feeling though so supernatural seems to never stop—as it unfolds with all the powers of countless worlds, which gather all kinds in its loving lap. Fathered by all its Spirituality, Nature, History, Traditions and People—I’m on the edge of its smiling hex, in my entrance to its Kingdom come.