In the Land of the Pedant,
The one-idea’d man is king∗,
Believing he surpasses
In absolutely everything:
A critical condition
With every potential
To compromise position.
Looking at the world
Through a small-bore telescope2
As if denying actual scale
Will somehow help him cope,
This Devil with his Detail
Tidying up loose ends,
To make everything look pretty,
Like bandaging a mummy
To keep essential form
While somehow disregarding
A need to transform:
Fluidity of spirit
The only way to stay with it.
While we problem-solving critters
Are often prone to feeling bitter
When thing expand beyond our reach,
From pebbles to boulders on a beach,
We gather the sand that settles between
Enough to build foundational dreams
And sharing these with near and dear
Find a way to marshal fear.
For many eyes give more perspective:
The simple power
Of a human collective.
* Caught between the unspoken ‘man thing’ in education (not all by any means, but the louder some…) and constant reports of the ‘migrant crisis’ showing ports and vessels overwhelmed with men. It’s the twenty-first century and still very much a mans’ world indeed.