I tried to explain to the children
who thought they had nothing to learn.
The world was a bubbling cauldron;
the Devil was happy to churn.
Invoking the power of reason
to counter the evil of Men.
A patriot warning of treason,
but they were all sleeping by then.
And so I stood up to be counted,
too old to bring much to the fight.
While each on the other they mounted
in quest of a welcoming tight.
Now here in this kitchen of worry,
that we would soon lose what we had.
The children in slow motion scurry,
preparing a dish for the mad.
In agony, begging the children
(their hunger I clearly discern).
But they were no longer my children,
who lighted the pot where I burn.