Voices running so far and near,

Footsteps seeking their goal with haste,

A few glances ever so chaste

And hair flowing from there to here,

Some hands are fast to the making

Others equally to taking,

A tongue is strong, a nose is sharp,

Some words are wrong, some try to warp,

Gold and silver rain down faster

Than water and reign true master,

Trophy hearts and loved jewels

Followed by old enamoured mules

Cross path with spirits marveling

At the fruit of their travelling,

And in the middle of this crowd

A pair of ears tries to listen

To all those musics which glisten

Even though their own is so loud.


The greatest loneliness is surrounded by a thousand voices that you know.

Here ‘loved’ is to be said ‘lo-vèd’, sort of a diaeresis but not exactly.

One thought on “Agora

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