From the internal core of my earth I release a world of bright hope

From my hands, flowing streams of smooth syllables nourish the barren lands of men's souls

This is why I speak... I write... I live

Ancestral chains binding free spirits of orators and writers past

Who spoke hope with eagle soaring songs

While upon cotton their sweat, tears, and blood reveal their personal stories

This is why I speak… I write... I live

Nylon arms attempt to drown the sky of glowing possibilities

Constricting hands from releasing nourishing flow of life to barren souls

And breaking stable courage into declining fear

Yet through their declining fear... scars of pain revealed inevitable determination

While gasping breaths spoke of the future being just a whisper away

And silence being the empty pages for me and my generation

 To write our story

This is why I speak... I write... I live

With my voice, I will emancipate the captive

With my pen, I will cut chains of mediocrity

With my Life, I will toil the earth...

Fighting through slashes of statistical whips

Breaking ropes of restricted inferiority

And project a roar of change…

And even if my voice should be reduced to a whisper or temporary silence

 May the scars of my life, the blood sweat and tears of my heart.

Remain in the fabric of this cotton I leave to the next generation

For when my voice and hands cease to speak... may my recorded legacy

Water the seed for new and better change upon the story of another

That will birth even greater change... For this reason

This is why I speak... I write.... I live.