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It will do if
Only those arduous trek
With bare toes along thorny tunnels
The Crouching and strutting
In loathsome corners
Of a wretched earth
Sounds of the unsung
Melodies in our head
Are heard in the market place
These mind blowing gyrations
Intellectual Sprinting and flying
Cutting corners with integrity
Spitting rheum eating rheum
Just for those mind -blowing gymnastics
Will the big children not gather?
Round?
Will the village square not play host?
To architectonic forms of humans
For this eloquence of silence?
Or is
This voice but
Gathering waters with baskets.
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