COMMENTARY
The soul of humanity
Is not to be found
In the speeches of award winners
It is to be discovered
In the shadows where few
Would think to look
In the backs of buses
On seats scrawled with signs
Only the wounded can read
In the eyes of old men
Seeing a world
They once called their own
In a thrift store’s corner
Where somebody’s diary
Lies gathering dust
Victims of the wind
As the cold-blooded clock
Triumphs once again
No comments:
Post a Comment