So poisoned is the throb of times

That not a heart may keep a pure flow

For more than a fleeting  illusion,

Of a duping high amid a perpetual low.

 

With every announcement of pride

Of accomplishment beyond compare

The honest heart skips a beat

To swallow that it may not dare.

 

Those that still tell an honest tale

Do their fast for forty days

In a desert where the adder hides

To strike the heart in modern ways.

 

Messiahs sprout in every clime

To do dirt upon their predecessors;

Successful men cheer them on

To  order into unbending fetters

 

Common sense and camaraderie,

The empathy of shared tribulations,

Selfless voices, heartfelt words

That admonish erring nations.

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