Finally, a Will
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Poem
So childlike
I can’t be like love, like that
Strength, yes
The heirlooms passed down from fathers
To sons like sparks given to an anvil
From hammers
Greatness laughs
As a child, measuring nothing
But the length of its own shadow
While running
The darkness on the ground is
The same as above,
made more beautiful
By the sun that passes down
What it does
more by LORD BISON
check out: That Golden Woman – A Spoken Word Album by Lord Bison
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photograph by Inbal Marilli
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