There is an invisible line,

that traverses this planet

unlike the equator or the tropics

it spins as a verbal compass

wobbling and vibrating

collecting, collating

language, power, people

This unseen line is a connecting, collecting

rhythmic anthem

it magnetises stories,

feelings and holds together

those things that don’t fit

makes them make sense

It is a dotted line made up

of all the first brushes of ink

From people all over this planet

who said I am poet

and I can make you think