Poetry for a hard days work and glass of wine.

How oft upon our own backs,
do these giants progress?
How far doeth thine tunnel take thee,
Beyond the path once harnessed?
How tarnish be the souls of peons,
And peasants alike,
In the light of their shadows?
Cast forth by hallowed towers into the sky.
How blind be the laymen attempting retreat,
in the face of these deified masters?
How seldom seen are these gods,
And leaders or captains and kings?
Not often enough to relieve whats been lost.
Not often enough to believe whats been taught.
Yet somehow we all,
Will give chase all for naught.

-Kory D.-1/24/18-