LAMENTATIONS

by David Eide

Fascinated by the specialist and the flourishing gadgets the poet spends time to gather them to the sad mourning sack of woven fears. Do not things spring out, unannounced, and destroy some excellent thought the poet has carried for days?

The specialist is king and the poet flounders if he is hypnotized by the expert and his systems, his instruments , or his power. Oh, specialist, you are a brother and I will make secret pacts with you; they will go unannounced in the news. A lover of knowledge only judges on how the knowledge is being used. If the knowledge flourishes out and away from the poet but the ends are responsible and useful the, the knowledge of the specialist who created it is good.

Ah, but the great project can come to an end. Why do we believe we know the end of the endeavors that surround us , that beat their chalice into our ears until we are stunned by the ring of runaway bells.