A bard's constant companion in a world meant for
Myopic threads that lead to nowhere fast and I am
not in a hurry
Slow the pace
Let my people go to where art and beauty reign
Where time is measured by the spotting of the sun
Where the moon lassoes an unsuspecting tide
Does anyone know the way to where...
A rhythmic hush rules the night and inspiration drips
from stoic crags
Relenting not in otherwise docile pools;
An epicenter of tranquility?
Alas, the masses are addicted to bytes and the drab
gray tones of progress
Contrived happiness all the while chained
Spoon-fed- why should I think when charlatan
clones can do it for me?
There's not a protest loud enough for these robotic
Call me jaded
Call me anything but a sheep