A poet dreams upon a ledge,
while painters pace abysses’ edge.
As bulldozers level mountains,
architects build indoor fountains.
Nothing in this life is certain.
Every answer has its curtain.
Words are said and weapons raised
as the gods are being praised.
It’s been said that all professions
come with their own crazed obsessions.
Baby, you must make your choices
once you understand the voices.
Behind madness logic simmers:
too much light, you hit the dimmers.
All that gold, it surely glitters,
‘nough to give a man the jitters.
Sea to sea see former monkeys
writhing now like power junkies.
That spark evolved from two sticks
has us in our final fix.