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Earl Smith

Hopeful Poet 6 Years Ago Hurricanes recreate the path of slave ships  Stirring the very water they once traveled  Still, the fury these storms create is minimal  To that of what we have unraveled  Most days, I am truly baffled  At the lack of substance making sense  The generation of sold souls  Selling gold for mere cents  I refuse this aphotic world  Along with everything it stands for  I have beautiful children to raise  For them, I want so much more  I used to dream of saving it all  With age I have come to learn  You can’t force destiny  At some point you have to let it burn  Let it rise into the atmosphere  Smoking the skies with what could have been  Giving birth to the next hopeful Poet  As the circle of life begins, again…