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| 2pac Poem |
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| 2pac And it was at that age � 2pac arrived in search of me. I don�t know when, I don�t know why. A whisper in the wind, a sound on the radio, and image on tv. It was a beat without words like a snowstorm without snow. Words with such fire and meaning yet somehow incomprehensible. I was oddly drawn to it like a moth to a lamp. Soulless crowds of fans who were entranced, and there was I, still trying to understand. I sang a tune with no beat and danced a dance with no steps, ignorantly imitating the creator. I was starting to see meaning as a novelist would at a poet�s convention, something on the horizon yet still unclear. I rhymed his rhymes for the first time with so much eagerness and still void of Tupac�s reality. There was limited comprehension, and then I suddenly saw; corruption, infinitesimal worth of ghettos, black life perishing, hatred from all directions strong as daggers, death�s community, sadness, despair, self destruction, futility, and desire of great magnitude to change all. And there was I, enfranchised and invincible by virtue of 2pac�s omniscient expression. Brimming with immeasurable discernment, and my counterpart and I were one, �Until the End of Time�. |
| This poem is the creative ideas of Chris Craigwell and may not be reproduced in any way without authorized consent. It was written in the form of Pablo Neruda�s poem �Poetry�. All right reserved. |
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| By: Chris Cool |
| Now Playin: "Runnin (Dying to Live)" by Tupac ft Biggie |