Legion are the grim reasons to despair
Clearly, things are not as they ought to be
About truth or wisdom, few seem to care
Innocence and virtue, few eyes can see
Avarice and mendacity prevail
Machines learn to think, as we forget how;
Proud Ares dons again his bloody mail
And yet, beauty is still visible now
The stars consider our sorrow and smile
They know that the same alphabet that makes
Up the bones of tragedy can shift style
And wriggle into jokes—the belly shakes!
The shadows swaddle light and make it glow
In darkest soil, sumptuous fruit will grow
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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