What I wish is to feel the
warmth of the hearth within winter
Arise wakeful in a world
where its people are kindred spiritsTo be ruled with perceptive actions by benevolent dictators
Blind to profit, vanity and the contemptuous rewards of blood
But it shall not be this day, nor this year, nor this long lifetime
Not while the moneylenders
rule the outcome of all our plans
Usurpers in the guise of
allies wreak us all a much poorer worldWe become a cash cropped humanity languishing in hollow hope
Sated by our small desires and petty, yet magnificent; scandals
While the bad news is buried so deep it shines no light ever again
And I wonder when truth
becomes clear to me; did we deserve this?
Birth-righted outcasts now
within a system that takes away everythingTo become so fast the lowest caste within a society evolving into ruin
And I wonder if the truth will become clear; but tis short conjecture
The skilful art of strategy is a slow lesson, learnt well over millennia
For the opiates of the working
man’s life are entrenched beyond measure
The essence of humanity is
a withal, fragile thing; easily bought and abusedAnd yet with but one small kindness or spectacle see it vigorously rebought
I do not despair; I am too old to be moved by an unending disappointment
That we are given one life and all we do is pass away its precious time