Indelible ink intricately traced
From the start unevenly spaced,
like the ones now on his other face,
these are the first lines he sees.
“What line is this that seems to not be moving?”
he asks each passerby in turn;
they respond the only way they ever can
with propaganda lines they have learned.
He has been to wars in fiery skies of unknown worlds,
behind enemy lines he hid and desperately wept;
heard epitaphs, seen gauntlets hurled;
seen cowardly midgets steal while giants slept.
longwinded parallels, never properly aligned.
Other fools did not notice, other liars did not mind.
Still the closed spaced lines kept on coming;
ironclad contracts never properly signed,
They say;
“Sir, can you move to your left a few feet,
then after that shift slightly to the other direction?”
We stupidly obey and meekly wait our turn
in the charade named ‘For Your Protection”
Following along the lines of different ages;
eventually getting them to about that spot,
where index and the ending are not on different pages;
listing less of What Is than What Is Not.
He tried again to understand the thinking,
like he could with better eyes, in better times;
back when the caution lights were merely blinking;
when he could still read between the lines.