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.
(c) 2008
