Scryed from my mind, upon this cyber page

It’s not that everything old is new again;
or that nothing unique arises under obdurate Sun.
Creative designers derive and develop impressions,
ideations from within humanity’s psychic maze.
Meanwhile, unfazed, unasked reality evolves
its erratic, merry way.
Revised maps appear each day.
Most of us just fall in with  the crowd,
focus caught up in our current task.
Limited by what tools come to hand,
what we’ve been taught.
 *
(Badmouth the disorderly man — the message lost,
never usefully discussed.)
We want to believe in stability,
in natural laws that are fair and follow sense.
Kind destiny to float in a halcyon bubble
outside of duration,
insured against consequence
of change.
.
.
.
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