These worlds, seen as they lie,
Conditioning the lives of some
And anachronistically challenging others',
Inevitably become finely honed and carefully structured.
It comes like the thief in the night
To lead you to an overwhelming question,
Much like a quixotic dance
Or a Siren's song.
Where are you, o bellwethers
With that irenic equanimity,
Could you be the spark that ignites
With a concupiscent charity?
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