A poem to pass the time.

we stare at the future ever wondering ever living never delivering.

we feel at the tempest ever believing ever hoping never moving.

we are a horror, we resist it, we harness it we misuse it but we don’t understand it.

thus will be our downfall, as that of the Romans and Greeks we must learn from it.

What is it, what is it, what do we hear?

what is it, what is it, what do we fear?

Change a tempestuous element of benign origin.

We seek it yet cower from it.

We live it yet yield from it.

What is it, what is it, why do we care?

what is it, what is it, why do we stare?

Its frightful gaze lures us in ever wondering ever living never delivering.

its fearful storm corrupts us ever believing ever hoping never moving.

These words have been written, and its future has been cast.

now our minds have bitten, perhaps, perhaps we will last.

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