Greatness
Why do we presume to be so great
When we hasten so to tempt our fate
Are our souls so in need of danger
Starting thus while in the manger
Bullet proof and over ten feet tall
Flying way before we can crawl
Drawn always to a brilliant light
Oblivious to our perilous plight
We run and rage on every page
Never heeding the advice of sage
Charging headlong into the wind
Pausing briefly only to append
If this thing I could understand
Maybe my life I could amend
This longing for freedom perchance
Could this cause such a dance
Maybe we can truly be this great
If we can only redirect out fate.
Copyright © Tye Chisholm | Year Posted 2005
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