And now, a brief rant in a not-much-anticipated second attempt at iambic pentameter.
Deign, if you will, to hear my humble mind:
In the depths of those who look to you, sow
only that which brings light, else be enshrined
in culpability – because we know
Work. Craft wonder, limbs wing weightless on air
But mind your rule, for you are naught alone
A signal, a plea passed over; you dare
surge on? Of course: what matters but your throne?
What is broken sums beyond stars and sand
without your negligence, your apathy
Yet showered with praise and glory you stand
while we mend and shed tears of empathy
But we know – we know. And I pray you’ll rue
that it was you, it was you. It. Was. You