The Spark

Tipping points

Just what are they?

A phenomenon that doesn’t play

They serve as words you need not say

Their meaning scoffed, and tucked away

It’s easy to go through the motions

As if we’ve brewed naive cold potions

That way we can brush the rug

But really it’s a hole we’ve dug

It’s effortless to live each day

Convincing ourselves all’s okay

The blinded, yes, they’re here to stay

And it has always been this way

Perhaps that’s why the folks like me

Sit back and frown, so sadly

Watching all these things unfold

Like stories that beg to be told

I look to idols, epicte’

The Kant, the Prince, the Socrates

They provide my only solace

Sadly though, these words will miss


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