One Whole Art

Standing alone in the mist
Where no man sees
The endless stream of wit
But when love comes
When the sun rises or sets
Down. Down the foot of hills
And the hawks hang on masts
Scouting the land for a final kill
The wind wearily sifts about
Men, their creaky windows seal
The darkness come upon the tents
The lightning and his angry nephew
The horn of the African Elephant
Wandering the grasslands
A stroll through the forests
On a pathway leading to the pond
Those strange nights
Of love and desire
The quiet huts
Swooshing trees
A wailing infant
Somewhere in the town
Wanting her mothers breast
The growing darkness
The village square in the hamlet
Filled with men in lust for ale
And the masquerades that run about
To beat people who stand on their way
The joys that the evening breeze brought
With the concoctions that brews a beer
The acrid smell of cigarettes
From the old man under the baobab
The world in words becomes an art
Painting plainly the very soul existence

And it came thus:
“The song may have stopped
But beats continues to play”

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