My precious little World that streams before me,
could you slow a little
from your madness...I am one of you,
and tender forth my grief, my tears
as insufficient sacrifice for all the years
of thoughtless racing for the prize
that always loomed ahead of us...so close,
so fragrant of finality...so ours.
And so I, too, slow down,
redirect my meagre fortune
and
pledge my new allegiance
to your every cry of need.
You, this globe, become my riches.
You are mad, yes, insane to host
this grasping little man who conquered you.
I am not the one to bring you sanity--
there is not enough to go around.
We, you and I, must assume one quality alone,
to care enough,
to reach out enough,
to cease complacency,
to thank whatever gods we own
that we possess the power
to cease our weary quest to be
the celebrated Number One.
And then we have the opportunity
to curb the wildness on the moors,
and lay our hands on love.
~