I met a man of many colors
And a tear was upon his cheek.
"Old man" I ask, "why do you cry
With such an agonizing weep?"
"Oh child" this man he says to me,
"My heart is broken in so many ways
That I believe this day to end
Will find me out stretched and far within
The encompassing earth of sin."
I sat down beside this man
And asked him "do not cry.
For what you think is so bad
That life will pass you by?"
He looks at me with such sad eyes.
And weeps ever more.
He holds his hands out to me
And alas, I do see
The anguish of his heart.
For his hands were different colors
One is red and the other white,
A leg he unclothed for me
Was as yellow as could be
And his other leg as black as night.
"I am the father of the world.
In case you do not know.
And my children have grown apart
And fight among themselves.
For when they do not get along
My arms and legs and hands and feet
Destroys the very life of me.
My hands of red and white
Will not feed this face of night.
And my legs of black and yellow,
Will not stand beneath this body
And support my heart and soul.
For they argue far too much,
And now I have grown old.
So here I sit in this haven
Of unwelcomeness.
And when this day ends,
A father I will not be.
For my children of many nations
Have forgotten how to accompany me.
No, I did not write this.
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1 comments:
nice
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