By Malcolm Little Black
Alone in this solemn wilderness
Where time is the only friend;
Drowning in the well of the mind
And death not so dreadful like a dead-end…
In this place of solitude
In this secret sanctum;
Thoughts grow wings
Wishes travel on chariot…
Where tongue is incarcerated
There Words are made sacred;
Silence wears a golden crown
And the intuition is reverend…
Serenity seems so endless
In this refuge of peace;
Be it Ruby, Jade or Pearl
The treasures of the heart are forever priceless…
Shut thy ears against the wailers’ noise
Implore the cerebrum to be still
To the melody of thy soul, give heed
Hearken to the voice that speaks from within.
