But really you see there weren’t any great at all.
Those may not have stumbled,
heads high, walked tall,
filling the silence where others mumbled.
But words fail
Before, they could taste, smell,
No different from you and me.
This is the way the world comes in
– unless you see the blood spilt
it’s only hearsay.
We have held a glass
over the antics
of a certain class
by thinking that what you cannot see
can in some way still be yours.
We have magnified their lunacy.
If we hold the glass elsewhere,
So long as we have never been there,
we might uncover,
You should not wait
to be great.
It’s bad enough you’ve got the wrong direction.
Don’t add an ulcer
to a bad digestion.