Blurred communication at speeds of light,
Unites the willing with a narrow mind.
Eyes extend past the scope of Nature’s might;
Awesome vision to the happily blind.
In sheltered comfort, blissfully confined,
Stifled by the absence of outside air.
Rural independence is left behind,
Hoisted up off the Earth, without a care.
Perchance–achieve the ideal, if we dare;
Perfect the Cure, reach a place of pure grace.
Perhaps–we’re doomed to dig our own despair;
Perfect the Bomb, efface the human race.
Though all of us can find cause to protest,
To muddle along is what we do best.