The Humanos Solos

I’m an explosion of histories

which shape a mind

I’m a series of colours

of which these lights remove blind

I’m the sensation of a series

rushing like a highway

to the summit of a person

an orchestra who’s been trapped to play

he’s a master of his fingers

who fashions a world of wood

to bring these creatures out from deep in dark

to be madly understood

he’s a symphony of which every noise

is placed at careful cree

each instrument that struck a note

he knew was meant to be

and there are different clouds from which we change

the earth crumbling beneath

when we jump from eye to eye

we taste moulded beliefs

& these roads escape each other

or quickly intertwine

for we are really solos
whose waters sometimes combine