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You can't see the forest for the trees
tangled in kudzo vines and blackberry bushes
You can't hear the call to work and prayer
because of the torrential rain on tin roofs
You can't tell if you are coming or going
because you are on the other side of the equator
You can't tell if you are dreaming or wishing
because the days fade into the night
All you can do is relish the thickness of
such a journey like honey in the promise land