Though there would be
immediate disagreement in one,
quiet satisfaction in another,
in the final hour,
one would realize if they did stop
to glance,
a world beyond their own device,
would, might
still exist,
and in that social fabric ignored,
a pain,
a fighting soul
whose rapture not found
might emulate
the sorrowful nature
of a discompassionate ploy.
Yes, simply a game,
beyond the reality of our terms,
defined by the human condition,
a banter of
despondent disregard
favors
only the regarded one …
or two, or three, or miles of more,
so difficult it is to understand
the lemings at my door.
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