if wisdom was the fashion now
we wouldn’t have to worry over much;
for brilliant men would speed the plough
and sage old birds would scurry through the streets delivering news.
the morning star would herald more
than simply light; the days spent hunting truth
and crawling under facts, before
revealing earlier times when honesty was not so much in vogue.
the mission bell of hope would ring
atop a blackened ivory tower. Its sound
reminding all of us that things
were easier when we gathered round the lie that sold us life.
but incandescent spite now shines
around our weary, egocentric souls
while longer grow the livid lines
of angry hearts, still chasing goals made unattainable by time.