A circus of three rings is the number preferred.
It makes sense of insanity and it provides
Division of attention among all odd things
That congrue in a cluster where impotent kings
Take their hand at mismanagement. No one decides
What to not pay attention to by thought or word.
Divided is the nation. Two worlds are as two…
Incongruent but yet so. There’s no precedent
For divergent societies to understand
Civil war in a new age yet on the same land
Stained with blood of our ancestors. Our swift descent
Was decades in the making. It now has come due.
In The Room are two elephants, both of great size.
Each ignored by the other, they merge into one
Grip that fits all occasions with realities
Fatally coexistent. The hope one may seize
Is that change is eternal. Nothing is begun
Without somehow expecting to deal with some lies.
Human Nature continues. I within it all
Am amazed and enlightened by all that is seen
As a fervent backlashing. Much wider awake
One becomes in observance. Another mistake
Nature may have made, and it may wipe the slate clean
Of its aberrant outgrowth. To it, we are small.