On The Wall

On the Wall By Cherie Ciaudella

Pool of shallow contemplation ‘Tis vain, this line of demarcation That shows what is, but not what was And ever after shall be cause Of such conceited, mad perdition Yet all of man, without condition Embrace the whole of capricious jaw Submits to rule by fallacious law

And who among the nescient does this compel? Those whom the teller treated well? This fair-weather friend both loved and hated, Waited on with sweet breath bated, Can claim to hold no mage’s spell Revealing that which time will fellNever done more, just surface skated Even though its not been sated

A mimicry, a mockery, a show There’s nothing here to live, to grow No dimension true, no character new Whatever is someone to do? What seeds of lassitude does it sow I guess now we will never know Our cities grow, our countries tooOur minds, though, go like morning dew

And they are all surrendered to The huge expanse, the mindless stew

On the Wall