A Future Foretold

the madman stands with clutching hands and shakes Eliot’s geranium what you hold has been foretold but he just stared distantly at the void and a vacuous comment slipped like mist over the trees, the height of conversation - such a vacuous nation – fools, cads and in moral poverty what does the future hold? or does it just shake the geranium? what have you been told of days of old? it’s the day of new where hope serves few