I am ancient
too late to claim my life, 
too old to change


Who can bend
with the river's every move?

A rod and a staff. 
How I crave the solace
A quiet life to live + serve well.
far from the murmur
the wagging eyes , the shuffling bodies
Where in the wide
can I go and not be seen?
Evaporate from my nation
my contorted tribe
My stolen life
forced into the grooves
of a collective dream
the vapid gleam
of a society given to bondage



Indeed, I am a citizen 
of the valley devoid,
the city of the swelling 
of the resonance of noise
at the clamor of imprudence,
my heart grows sick
the chatter of monkeys 
withers my ears
where can I seek the wise,
who can I entrust myself to?
to whom can I devote my time, 
where shall I invest my thoughts?




is there not one man left
not even one
Who knows yet,
the fear of the Lord