If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away---Henry David Thoreau

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

The death of a forgotten man: a poem from the early 70's

Flowing forms and figures pass uninterruptedly
through the mind of the old bearded man
His body has experience, his mind has too
He reaches for companionship
but only too often the tide does not reach the land
He is a man of the past and not of the new

Crashing to his chest comes a pain he cannot hold back
Time has taken from him what many years cannot replace
For this old man’s destiny is upon him
His cards have been stacked
The judgment day is upon his mind
and torment upon his face

On the day of the sunset the flowers flourished beneath his feet
The song of the white dove has fallen on his ear
before the tide reached the land
The darkness that now engulfs him is not that of defeat
It is just a resting of his weary soul that
was for so long in demand

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