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The Edge-Walkers MAG
Mirror, mirror witnessing the fall,
What is the greatest rue of all?
With malice burning, so is Rome,
And you dance and stab at tomb and tome.
Regardless of their noble state,
You are the downfall and the fate.
Is learning for learning’s sake a waste of time?
Do you find emptiness in prose and rhyme?
Well, stand in the breach and take in the view,
The prophecy has been snuffed out of you.
Your idols, insensitive, extrinsic, so bare,
Take a turn toward compassion, foment change, you’ll get there.
Stabbing at one whose insights you fear,
Trying to denigrate a life and career.
There are no races you can run; there is no way for you to hide,
We know who you are, you’re so oblique; do you think we’d take it and step aside?
You bear the mark and the world will always know
The smallness of the shadow you will ultimately throw.
So turn within if you must understand
What makes one a fool and makes another a man.
When you bang on the keys, it’s not art that you make
And jealousy doesn’t entitle you to burn gifts at the stake.
Inexorable certainty of your quaestorship
Does not give you the right to be artistically flip.
On the tombstone of minds that tried another path
It reads: Here lie the edge-walkers who made beauty on your behalf.