They’re At It Again
The poets are at it again. They’re making beauty from benign, And singing songs of anguish slain, By looking up where stars align.
The artists are at it again. They’re manifesting sights and sounds, Creating musical refrain, And helping us let love abound.
The makers are at it again. Constructing systems from the parts Of disparate things, just to obtain Convenience (which is also art).
The thinkers are at it again. They analyze, dissect and cleave To pieces, and from what remains, Find meaning lies where we believe.
Romantic, classic, matters not, For answers are the stuff of thought; And truth, the pith of one’s belief, No one can give nor be a thief.
