Rowing Out

The desire to escape increases

But when the world entire has gone mad

On what remote shore can one fit pieces

Into a pattern that makes the heart glad?

When ignorance and greed and hate abound

And plagiarism passes for great art

When poison spills into the fecund ground

And order seems to be flying apart

What recourse do the lost and lonely have?

What distant place ought they to row toward?

Perhaps, our sumptuous dreams we must halve

Lest grim despair propel us overboard

Concentrate on the rowing, vigorous

Methodical progress could well save us