when icons die
stars fall,
the nights look darker a bit
because another lamp was switched off.
what happens to great men who
traject through seas
into the heart of a weightless city
without carving another little image
& igniting the flickering lamps of amateurs?
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their lamps die,
die again & are buried under a bushel.
but you ike ikeogu
carved many little images
& ignited the flickering lamps of amateurs.
your light still burns fircely in our hearts.
stars falling, falling, falling.
Biography:
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