The Breaks

What makes us think
That we have the security of time
A blanket of success to lean on
In our darkest hours
When all go astray
Except those rare few
We remember for life-
Fellow travellers
In this thing we call existence.
As the world turns
We learn to roll with the punches
But some of us
Grow exhausted of the fight
Weary of jabbing
Into open spaces.
So farewell my brothers.
I’ve a gut feeling I’ll be here for a long while
Watching your back
To the accompaniment
Of old funk beak beats
Just like when we were kids.
We’ll meet again one day
When the stars and moon
Learn to speak a new language
And the sun illuminates my path.

For Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes

By Raymond Enisuoh


Issac Hayes
See:http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=292504516

Bernie Mac
See:http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=165719708