It is often taught but seldom said,
That a lot is born and left for dead.
In cinders rise smokes promise swept,
In madness clouds hath fiercely wept.
And burning, serious lightnings flee,
The terror of the blackened sea.
In truth no wrath shall bide the fear,
the truth and lies of this subtle sphere,
What feel you when tree's bough falls?
Can you not feel the Earth's pain at all?
A thicker skin has man evolved,
that no measure of acid nor poison holds his thrall?
But burn through doth poison's nature declare,
And soon enough tha'll skin be laid bare,
Then perhaps by no more deceptions will man himself blind,
and see for once the deeds of his kind.
with polite FINALITY,
茶
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