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andrew juma Jan 2016
There were nights when the wind blew hard
The earth was a cold world
The godess of art was cruel

She'd **** all of earth's melodies up in her
It was empty and  quiet below
Echoes reverberated in the caves of the earth

Man was lonely
In a lonesome world
Looking up the stary sky
Left without a sound

Dreaming.
Every one was dreaming
Mountains and hills were sleeping
Life without music

man below
Listened to the bellowing of  emptiness
Every activity was boring

The earth was life without poetry
The world knew no music
The birds composed no tweets

Life without inspiration
Man lived in desparation
Man lacked a sound

There was a time
The wind felt for the  earth
And conspired with the moon
To steal some notes and stanzas from the Sun

To create a sound for lovers at night
And encourage despairing soldiers
So birds can praise their creator

But the sun was guarded by the cruel godess
The wind blew over the moon
And polished its surface

The moon shone the sun's art
The wind blew over the moon in delight
Taking the music with it

It blew among trees and whistled
The birds got the jingles
They looked up to the sky
And sang

The wind blew over the oceans
The waters composed melodious waves

The sleeping earth woke
The dreaming man sang
The power of art possesed him

Lovers found an afrodisiac
Worriors remembered a song of victory
Life returned to earth

The angry godess got jealous
She began to corrupt music with hatred
Breaking the heavenly laws

So she was thrown down
by the Mighty One
And lost her music.

— The End —