Poor and Painful
i walk along the golden shore
and find the poets sighing
the burning sand beneath them gleams
i wonder why they're crying
is it that they see too much
while seeking for too little
poor and painful is their lot
whose lives are bright and brittle
like the shining glaze that's made
by melting pure white sand
without the golden mean i mean
the gilded do not understand
why the silver wavelets break
in harmony with screams
washing clean the feet of gods
and poets dreaming dreams
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