The world seems to be broken to little old me.
It would take no convincing that I could be wrong.
Some would say that it’s ‘varied’ instead of deranged.
I would like to see that way. Can my view be changed
In an instant after having lived for so long
Witnessing human nature as gross as can be?

Yes, the glass is half empty and also half full.
But of what? It’s a question that begs to be asked.
Wine of wisdom or wickedness… or something worse?
All that happens is because the world is diverse…
Too much so for too many. The proudly unmasked
Are the perpetrators of some share of the bull.

Yet amid the mass psychosis I understand
That the kitchen is well stocked with ingredients
Of all kinds. If I don’t want tabasco sauce in
The pie that I am making, I would not begin
Protesting its existence. That wouldn’t make sense.
Where is there room for our consciousness to expand?

Well, that isn’t my problem. I’ll not make it so.
I could join groups against tabasco sauce, but why?
Focusing my attention on what pleases me
Still remains a most significant remedy.
Empathy for the tormented I can’t deny.
There’s a lot about this world that I need not know.