I stood upon the horizon
As the sun crowned the day,
The people became beautiful,
Each in their own momentary truth:
The sun star rose
And the light mounted the sea,
The livid wound that is man and woman
Became a broken statue in stone
Flawed by time and suffering;
Death in a time of life!
In the city an ebony man
Holds the pyramid at the bottom
Of the scheme, he is unearthed
By a bullet not colorblind,
The song of a lost boy from
The wonderful ghetto explodes
And a stone is thrown.
The ripples are;
Eyes see, man feels
His heart yearns for better or
Something more, all he can turn
To is less, shadows of history link
Themselves in a chain and drag
Man into himself, there a giant
Mirror hovers over his sky.
New York, Saudi Arabia, Bangladesh.
Shadow cover the heart and man
Becomes a feverish animal
That swarms himself,
Proud and lonesome I see below
His heart and money uprooted his
His natural flow
(Domesticated bipeds acting out like
Four legged beasts, though sadly
Man knows it and does what?)
And yet there birthed within himself
Was given a gift so lovely as the forms
That man throbs with hope;
Stretching the heart into the living
hour man can see the light,
Truth comes into being
And fills himself with an ironic
Harmony. Here, now, we will
Never be this beautiful again,
The beauty is heavy with minutes
As each fade into eternity's
Shimmering river.
Man's thoughts are split,
They meander, think something
Wondrous and split again
Becoming entangled in a
Delta of endless rivers flowing
With the actions of ignorance.
Must the rush of life be lived
So rushed?
Day after day,
His mind cannot embody the forms,
The hostility grinding at each other,
The mirror inside liquefied
Into hopelessness and the body
Of his body becomes a tree
Of actions, risen out history's
Roots, roots which lay seeds,
Seeds which become his actions.