Condemned to stare, baffled,
from a remote outside, a lone bystander
who has no grasp on the deeper reality of all living things
Unable to understand its lineage, its branching, its purpose,
Studied, surveyed, administered, alienated dominion
You are not worthy of its mercy
Failing to see its all encompassing beauty
Condemned to play out the role
of the modern vile gods that we proclaimed ourselves,
Our throne is but made of the scraps that we were deigned being given,
holding on to primeval myths of a glorious past that hardly ever was
Spectacular images in a free market of absurdities
There is mourning, but there is a war
And the options we are given need to be deserted
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