Retreat
A world gone mad
where up is down
and logic flees
A child discerns
but not the fool
enchanted by
his party’s stripe
The lady, blind
a thumb weighs heavy
on her scales
High, hubris reigns
over the now
unable to recall
the recent past
or to consider the effects
it sets in motion
for the day
that comes
To rage
to rail against
these circumstances
out of reach
out of control
enjoins one to
this company of fools
Retreat
into the solitude and peace
that is the quiet life
cut off from all the noise
For He who sits on high
derisive, laughs with scorn
at those who would be king
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