‘Tis but the hand
Of skeptics,
Would impart
Their cryptic seed,
That germinates
Its sorry feed,
Said instigates
Worn pessimism,
While in the face
Of man’s betrayal,
Stirs cynics wide
That so impedes
Ones trust naïve,
Thus to deride
Man’s consciousness
Of earth’s demise,
Who callous to amends
Suffers life’s fleeting bide!
Of man we hoped
While we ignored,
The dark side
Of this being,
Thus would suffer
His betrayal,
Whilst he misused
Our naïve trust,
Hence so bestowed
He’d fail be worthy,
Held higher mortal…
Granitic he levels neath
The surface of intent,
An immoral creature
Of life form pitiable,
That but abuses
The innocent beguiled,
Fellow mortals
Who for the while
Find this being,
A peerless creature
Chosen to elect as leader,
To blindly go on trusting!
‘Tis but the hand
Of skepticism,
Politicos impart
The cryptic seed,
Which germinates
Its sorry feed
That instigates
Such pessimism,
While in the face
Of their betrayal
Cynicism flies,
To force impede
Inertia’s deed,
Chose let slide
Our trust naïve,
Turns to deride
Their legacy,
Now earth’s peril
Would see it turn
To lifeless dust,
Before the end
Of meager ride
Life did provide!
