We will bury downwards to the core,
As though all reality once thought in awe,
In much brilliance had we once to please,
As such this world the joy we increase,
How long more to continue our oath and pledge?
Now comes the honest tale we utter to fetch,
That now we the disappointed soon leave,
Casts ourselves a shadow thought to heave,
To slowly we descend into the Earth,
Where silent to think our dreams in birth,
Imagine ourselves a world that could be,
Thus never nor more be mocked and ne
Mocked, ne sought, ne bought, ne fought
For this world to be better be ought,
Last they stay below, the sound heard,
To promise round those who gird,
No longer is it the air they breathe,
These words they bring through teeth,
Their shovels to dig and inspire,
Where the darkness there they aspire,
Soon be had, and thus again to think,
As late they fall for hours on brink,
As known the world to cast eyes away,
Downwards they spiral with idea lay
The hope to create the world the better,
Their task set upon to draw the latter,
In images they rendered their desire,
Who with great ire sought to write in fire,
The pictures of a distant world perfect,
Those long strokes charcoal of trees wrecked,
That sound of a sound to create but ruin,
Who looks from below the tree wherein
Its roots to stash their ideas upheld,
Long to joy this image and soon held,
Found to grew, and soon to depart,
Long below and suddenly a star is got,
To catch a star and only to believe,
The world they now drew, all in haste,
They’ll believe this world is best,
They’ll forget the world from above,
To suffice their wish this world they love,
Sung the joys of the past once they had,
Soon remember the moments when a lad,
And weeps to the soil that sinks through,
No longer able to see a turmoil in brew,
Their ears of wax a mountain grew,
No more the words to this change they threw,
Their minds so vexed in past and hate,
As great they are but minds so, so of late,
They continue to these pictures they stare,
Who soon notice the void that lay bare,
Stood before it and soon were paralysed,
To relive again they shall be Her prize,
Soon they slowly fade to black nor rise,
That hole they dug so well slowly fails
This their hearts to prove but no avail,
Gone are those who continue a fantasy,
Done are those who break from reality.

Category:
Civilisation, Life, Nature, Poetry, Works
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