Rivalry

 

 

            There is safety in numbers,

A collection of accepted forms that

Roam wherever pleased,

And yet they fight amongst themselves as leader,

But always they’re at the mercy -

Of those who exist upon the fringe.

 

One wrong turn and they are

Very far from an Oasis within deserts

Of common thought,

            For baron is the land once fertile,

Arid is the land - once flowing rivers of diversity,

And re-cultivation’s not as easy as it seems.

 

 ‘They,’ are all so contented when satiated

By wealth,

Yet the jostling for strength continues

Within the prowess of the weak,

            And norms expressed as common-place

Are tired of propping up the very same excuse,

And I hope the Gods forgive this ludicrous state;

This transparency of Man!

 

Michael J Waite 19^th November 2010.