In
a small black town, your town
where even trains linger unwilling,
anxious to be on their way
in a park, defying the soot and shadows,
a gray building stands lined with mother-of pearl.
Forget the snow, the frosts's repeated blows;
inside you're greeted by a damp anthology of breezes
and the enigmatic whispers of vast leaves
coiled like lazy snakes. Even an Egyptologist couldn't make them
out.
Forget the sadness of dark stadiums and streets,
the weight of thwarted Sundays.
Accept the wam breath wafting from the plants.
The gentle scent of faded lighting engulfs you, beckoning you
on. |
In
a small black life, your life
where even the darkest thoughts linger unwilling,
anxious to be on their way
In your heart denying hopes and wishes
a crumbling spirit stands protected by diamond studded chain-mail.
Forget the love, the friends who come and go;
Inside you're plagued by a hurricane
and the silent whipers of ancestors long gone - too far gone to
care.
Even a million years couldn't change the past.
Forget the bitter cold days to come, the monotonous grind of life;
accept the small green gem left behind in pandora's box
the gentle reminder that there is hope. |