You are urbane. I feel sublime.
Veneration offers little cure for you and I.
All around I see your presence in block
Upon block of people, who never saw the sea.
Subservient in your request, you asked for reason
To bind our minds together, just as the wind
Binds sea to the shore.
Yet I am polemic, radiating, stronger than sol,
more self assured than Prometheus.
Theirs may not have been rational.
But waters constant rising, begs me to ask you.
Voltaire do you see my flair? Posthumously.
You deism is forgotten, lost amongst the wild wood.
Beyond these concrete cities a prisoner, a humanitarian!
Just as we drown amongst the government born of
‘New Money’.
Where are your followers?
Why do they live in subterfuge at the bottom of the glass?
What happened with conversation and debate, how did we take this controlled path?
