Let us run counter to this expectation
That people try, and drift along
For not their minds are used for long.
Until does Fate destroy with tools
These vessels wrought by blind, poor fools.
Now take, and to, see, and why
Does it appear, before - can fly?
Not a cliché, divined by sight
But one of sound and enchanting light.
Perpetual plague - will to assume
Inevitable that it must consume
Eventual, life is ripped from birth
The other, the tyrant; laughter and mirth.
To whom, we grant the sabled eye?
A stream, but broken before the sky
The great life, through the world
Disaster as ever, truth unfurled.
And when sense nears its rest
Reason encounters its greatest test
The one, not other, commands a way
For the voice, its choice, to finally say.
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