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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=426320" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Wor[l]d Weaver - Wait Tress Adressed</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Wor[l]d weaver we would know what may transpire <br>when Chronos fear’s unravelled on our earth. <br>Will waitress Time serve course with dainties, lyre<br>rewiring tastebuds with sweet morsels? tire, <br>no second servings dish? doors closed, expire? <br>close restaurant, avaunt, as if birth – berth<br>is/was spun bill of lading, - pre-paid buyer<br>obliged, wait_tressed, to pun de_sire? <br>Will waft and weft swift smoke in final fire, <br>or will we wait, like mammoths, for rebirth, <br>within ice walls sung by no phantom choir, <br>lost, silent, windless, sunless too, our worth <br>our empires under rock of ages' mire? '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Light years spun long before the minds of men <br>climbed through primaeval slime to seed the stars, - <br>to open up far universe again.<br>Dice walls or calls the stakes, gives, takes, or mars<br>when cycles turn Fate's wheel, when nothing bars <br>intelligence renascent, - beings then <br>may lodestars search or perch on Shangri Las. <br>Beaux-arts may flourish, while noteworthy pen <br>might music rediscover, strange sitars <br>send notes afloat on timelessness suspen- <br>ding Time itself, once more feed hours<br>and powers the heady appetite empowers<br>to choose the course it views upon life’s MEN<br>YOU – only you – may taste, may waste, till when<br>wheel turns in haste, bill paid, and fade the flowers.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Wor[l]d weaver one would well your lore inquire. <br>What can become of all our storied mirth, <br>our idle chatter, dreams, ambitions higher, <br>our generations' aims and prayers entire, <br>imaginations vivid, poets’ lyre? ” <br>Should one feed now? How choose? when whine lists’ worth<br>may rancid ransom prove, a thorny briar.<br>Should we treat Maître D to trust as Sire, <br>or, tricked, of course off course, t[h]read into gyre <br>whose tipple ripple – pointed Fate’s denyer –<br>may earn return, new menu’s venu, dearth<br>or plenty find behind mind’s blind rebirth? ” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Should, mad, mankind continue as today<br>to overcrop, to overfish, disdain<br>the seasons’ reasons, - all that may remain<br>could well be drowned beneath reef’s swirling spray<br>as tipping points are reached. No time to pray<br>may soon be found as poles melt, greed for grain<br>encouraging pollution, won’t restrain<br>equations which imbalance interplay<br>in ways all may regret with needless pain. <br>No fire, no ice, no cities, no ex…plain.<br>No restrooms, silver settings, crystal. Chain<br>reactions sweep both waiter, wait away.<br>Dessert is served in some Bagdad café as carpetbagger man’s precocious reign<br>turns paradise to desert by the way …”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>16 Febuary 2002 revised 19 January 2007</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jonathan+Robin">Jonathan Robin</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=426320" data-title="Wor[l]d Weaver - Wait Tress Adressed de Jonathan Robin" data-description="“Wor[l]d weaver we would know what may transpire 
when Chronos fear’s unravelled on our earth. 
Will waitress Time serve course with dainties, lyre
rewiring tastebuds with sweet morsels? tire, 
no second servings dish? doors closed, expire? 
c..."></div>
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