There's Room For Everyone At The Rendezvous

I Am Talking About Societies Drained Of Their Essence, Cultures Trampled Underfoot, Institutions Undermined, Lands Confiscated, Religions Smashed, Magnificent Artistic Creations Destroyed, Extraordinary Possibilities Wiped Out.

Beware, My Body And My Soul, Beware Above All Of Crossing Your Arms And Assuming The Sterile Attitude Of The Spectator, For Life Is Not A Spectacle, A Sea Of Griefs Is Not A Proscenium, And A Man Who Wails Is Not A Dancing Bear.

Africa, Help Me To Go Home, Carry Me Like An Aged Child In Your Arms. Undress Me And Wash Me. Strip Me Of All Of These Garments, Strip Me As A Man Strips Off Dreams When The Dawn Comes. . . .

A Man Screaming Is Not A Dancing Bear. Life Is Not A Spectacle.

Out Of The Sky, The Birds, The Parrots, The Bells, Silk, Cloth, And Drums, Out Of Sundays Dancing, Children's Words And Love Words, Out Of Love For The Little Fists Of Children, I Will Build A World, My World With Round Shoulders.