A Poet Among The Tribesmen

there is a poet
among the tribesmen
I have never seen his face
but I know him by the evenings
when his altered states
have rendered fits of ranting
about what is and what could be

there is a poet
among the tribesmen
I have seen him crouching
on the high rocks
at the outskirts
watching the birds
that circle there

there is a poet
among the tribesmen
I have seen him
his eyes are dark and cold
the history of many
his heart is empty
and carries nothing

there is a poet
among the tribesmen
I have seen him
uninvoled yet witnessing
watching with no will of his own
he is most often silent
yet I have seen him laughing
with the children