“Reason holds the helm, but passions are the gales.”
We each evolve from those we call our mothers and
Our fathers. They came before, we followed after
We are saturated by their composition
The fluid essence of their own inauguration
Look back, look back, at all things human
What single thread binds us here, what stitches
Sewn, what seam is knotted in the end so nothing
No truth can unbind it, or wear it thin; Avarice
From birth we covet recognition, we desire that which is
Thought worthy of desire, that which others hunger
After, or sell their souls. Sometimes we crave a taste,
A fragrance, or solitude. Sometimes just a word,
As solitude may be excruciating.
We, by we, I mean the human animal, baring
Those who lack it; where none exists at all,
Are more often ruled by passion then otherwise.
Look back, look back I say.
Will we ever change?
Two-hundred forty-two years since declaring
Our sweet liberty. Avarice rules.
Where has reason gone?