If a better world
were to open,
everyone invited to attend,
would our hopes yet again be broken?
Lost to those whose true love is to offend?
Folks happy to share vital passion,
no time to berate, hate, proselytize.
If only such a code would be the fashion,
our better world could open, grow, thrive.
Imagine spray of stars;
fire sprites mutate, evolve.
Fall into form, self-awareness.
Adapt to woo, reproduce,
sort into regulated line.
Petty jobs, small talk;
ad hoc crises, dramas du jour.
Over millennia structures lose shape, coherence.
Idols lose persuasive charm, become mundane.
Consumption denotes something different
from disease of corrupted lungs.
Stark coteries of inspiration
struggle to breathe, amass,