Between kings and myths there is an old man under the sun,
resting in a corner where few pay attention,
with eyes closed and head tilted
he feels a gentle warmth on his skin.
As he takes a breath and inspires life
this old body exudes vitality and strength.
Like an ear of wheat,
he bends, but does not break.
A dense opacity envelops the old figure,
but it doesn't overshadow the tender warmth of his face.
There will always be darkness
for where there is light there's shadow.
But obscurity can never cross the line drawn by what stands in brightness.
Like the old man,
Live in the sun and observe the blackness from there.
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