Lay atop our great abyss an ancient tapestry,
an ornate picnic rug, upon which many will sit,
exhorting the tales of its tattered threads.
Tall tales of scholars of sort,
that made deities of fortune tellers.
Gluttonous sitters will long rest
on the laurels of scholars ago,
oppressing other sitters at will,
like captains sailing their crew to
an isolated island of ideology,
overseeing famine...
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