I am in a quandary – talented language
gurus earn their bread by making tents
and those of us with time and good intent
try our best to fill the empty space in which
the echo of the lonely reverberate
Yet we fail – when shall those who can sing
be allowed to rhyme the beat that charm with
new content, when shall the dance begin again,
one-two-three, without ending with a thud as we
fall face-first in the mud?
Let the song-birds sing to awaken gods from
unwonted slumbering to let them open
the show again…
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