Pan-Man Poem by Norman Lloyd West
Pan-Man
Sitting beside the curling water,
I play softly without
Thought to what,
If anything,
I play.
Only liking the sound,
The hollow sweetness
Of the notes changed
By water and darkness;
A lullaby synthesized,
To haunting immensity,
To that I should not
Help but to cry.
Thus-far from heaven,
The world has become
A different thing,
Then ever I'd known it
To be.
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11/23/2024 10:01:17 AM # 1.0.0
