Tatsumi
Pour a cup of tea
Awaken your sense
To what you see and what is really underneath
It is clear if you look in his written words, in his
drawings of two shades
As he weaves these tales for you, the ink is the strands
that touch each other
They are here to show you:
The ashes on the wall, mother and son embrace, is not what
it seems
How much of it is fueled by hate
The sounds of war have tried to past but there are echoes of
it coming forth
Criminals shackled together, are they truly condemned, are
they what we believe
Through the black and white lines, comes a grey most would
not see
Wandering in this old abandoned dream
The one dismissed when it once was reality
Drifting in these experiences, they makes the stories real
They make the tales feel
Demanding out attention
It is from this life we honor
Every time we open one of his books
Every time we turn a page
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