7 in the morning, I wake up, prepare myself and head down stairs, but no wait, before I leave, I make sure to carry what I need for my journey: text books, note books, pencils, pens and I head off. No wait, before do all that, I say my prayer and read my Fire Bible that I always put beside me on my bed, it’s just what I do. Now I am ready to go...No wait did I forget something?...No. I am good to go now. Have my i.d and my keys, looking fly from head to my knees, haaa just kidding, but I am fly anyway :)
Walk down the hall, "good morning, good morning, hello" open the door; go down to the next floor. "Good morning, good morning, what’s up, hello" I say all this as I go. Doors open, wind breaks, yup it’s another day. Classes by the lakes, (not really) we have a pond, it’s really cool you know, to have one in school. Away from the doors, away from the building, onto another to get on my edumacation. The path I follow, it leads me to a place so hollow, in the deep dark forest, were the living do not dwell, were the lost never get found, and the deer just sit and stare. It’s all not true, for the path I take it’s in open space, wide, yet narrow, straight yet zigzagged or in a swirl. On both sides of the path trees and grass grow naturally- nutritious sources of food for deer. A small stream runs from somewhere, I am not sure where, but I am certain that it runs. It runs all around campus, all around the world. Water ever flowing, sparkling clear and pure, I suffer from the “thirst disease” this water, it has the cure. Away from there, I flip my hair and move on, haaa again I do not really flip my hair, I just move on. Over another bridge, oh boy are there so many. I walk up the hill, that hill so steep but small. That hill I love and that hill I loathe, that hill that takes me to where I must be. I love that hill, it’s a workout, and yet I loathe it because it reminds of my journey, not one that is physical but metaphysical, it reminds me of hardships endured, sorrows and pain, shame for my name, hurt and loneliness, fear and disappointment; that hill reminds me of it all, and yet I still love it. I love it because I still go, up that hill even if I am slow, because I know at the end, there I will find more, I will find more, I will find more, more of what is good, more of what is just, more of what I have longed for. I loathed the hill but at the top I love it so, I love it that I don’t want to let go, not even for a moment, the joy I find up on that hill that I loathe and yet still deeply love. Past my beloved, I ride the zebra, she is dressed in her favorite coat, the one that is black and white, not a surprise, for she always wares her favorite coat, yes that very one of black and of white, not with the dots but the one with the stripes. Off her back, I proceed, “onwards!” I say, “to the place of the day, the one, if I may, where I will get my edumacation on!” I am here, again facing another building, taller and bigger and wider than the first; this one not with my pencils not with my pens, not with my text books and not with my keys, in this building is where now I use all my things.