Authors, Writers, Publishers, and Book Readers
now that the truth is out
and edges the windup
say did you really doubt
of where you would end up
just right there where you are
all alone in the night
feeling more fraud than star
and really not that bright
not completely grownup
more bewildered than fine
but still the wait is up
time to come forth and shine
seems you blew your thirties
in healing from your teens
in bending to worries
and in blaming your genes
cloistered in priory
yet life was not tranquil
your want was fiery
unending test of will
years of slow advances
at the foot of millions
trained by circumstances
pruned by disillusions
countless angels unseen
arranging the decor
staging every scene
closing every door
but the ones to your fate
in ways that tamed your spleen
and pacified your hate
they polished up your sheen
to this constrained ascent
found pointless to oppose
much better to consent
than struggle in the throes
now you're pinned to the sky
right where life wanted you
you are not asking why
in truth you always knew
alien in the void
stuck to celestial dome
the gods blocked or destroyed
all the bridges back home
with no way to retreat
you must recite your tome
revealing the deceit
exposing the syndrome
you have no place to stand
and yet a world to move
a posse to disband
a thesis to disprove
billions of souls to stir
hearts to set afire
with notes that rouse and spur
and rhymes that inspire
to herald the reset
of the world that wasn't
and hasten the onset
of a way that doesn't
disregard our nature
but puts the living first
above expenditure
through the best and the worst
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