In the dark of night, a silhouette appears,
A man in black, shrouded by his fears,
His skin as dark as coal, his eyes so bright,
A symbol of strength, a beacon of light.

His history is one of pain and sorrow,
But he stands tall, never bending to the blow,
With every step he takes, he leaves his mark,
A reminder of his power, his eternal spark.

His soul is deep, his heart is pure,
A treasure chest of stories, waiting to be heard,
He speaks with passion, with words that sing,
A black man's voice, a mighty, soaring thing.

He dances to the rhythm of his soul,
His feet tapping out a beat that's whole,
A symphony of sound, a joy to behold,
A black man's spirit, never to be sold.

And though the world may try to keep him down,
He rises up, his spirit never bound,
His eyes set on the prize, his heart on fire,
A black man's journey, one of endless desire.

So let us honor him, this man in black,
A symbol of hope, a leader of the pack,
His legacy forever etched in time,
A black man's spirit, forever sublime.