~
When shall I grasp these fleeting rings of gold
That flit about the chambers of my mind?
When merchants count imaginary coins,
The host does tremble for its daily bread.
I punch the keys that do not open doors,
While Senators doth babble into air.
While rich men beg for other people's gold
And panels flat do entertain the host.
When will I grasp these fleeting words of truth,
That rattle round my long deficient mind?
When can I bind these fleeting dreams in ink,
And set them to a much beguiling rhyme?
When schools begat the unillumined host,
That twitter tiny thoughts into the air.
When alchemists do waste their precious gifts
On vanities and multi-headed births.
When will I grasp these fleeting thoughts that fly
About my mind that cannot hold a theme?
A mind that has one million tiny glints
Of genius that add up to nothing more
Than tiny lines that flicker on a screen
These tiny lines that will remain unseen
The only thing I know is "wear sunscreen".
When will I grasp these ravings by the arm,
And put them down on paper, safe from harm?
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