sit silently alone – not together, but near each other
inside the theatre – not really understanding
the rage that is Humanity
outside our cage of consciousness,
beyond the speeches and the worn-out scenery.
(for Malcolm)
the rage that is Humanity
outside our cage of consciousness,
beyond the speeches and the worn-out scenery.
(for Malcolm)
1 comment:
Great poem. My epitaph will read: "He hadn't a clue what was going on."
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