I write the histories embedded in me as a boy.
I tell your stories but see them like another man,
stories all over and around already.
What do I tell you then?
I imagine another course, not of books, no fiction,
but of future, of a man, in words. The day, God blessing,
that you will if you seek of how men heard.
Each of us has lives with that drama, but that is not for it.