As those who return from war

"...

And with each advance I collapse

over my self's embers

and perish,

and with each retreat I demolish the walls of my rhime

and walk out the house of meaning in hope

that I would return to it murdered.

And since it was rightful to avenge my death from a rose

the tribe threw me to the water

for me to crown my promise with an ear of wheat

or with the noon sun

so I went along this route for a short while.

I say by phrases I did not speak

and by a cup whose wine has cracked my face

and I busied myself with arranging the things of my soul

as those who return from war do

for a long while..."

Zakariyya Muhammad, Everything.