To be there is to steal the beats of beautiful women's drums and find nowhere to play it.
To be there is to watch the sea lick the dimming sun to a sad finish.
To be there is to stand in the worn out shoes
Of dead men and cry the end of their lives.
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This is art; To squander time contemplating the meaning of a painting. Oh, the epiphany! Perhaps, like our souls, this black nothing searches For meaning on the tongues of strangers who know nothing......so touching and impressive. Beautiful poem so nicely composed and shared. Thanks you dear Oduro for sharing this poem.
typo..please treat it thank instead of thanks.