'Cry Hell, and loose the dogs of war'
on all these abundant accessories underfoot
oft I wish all these toys and things--
untidy bits all--could be given away (what a surplus M'Lord!)
and all my children, smartly dressed and hair
perfectly parted would sit and read silently, no mess!
if it were my world the three of them, all Athenas,
would be leaping from my head fully armed so!
but my temper on this is mainly mercurial
coruscant in it's orbit, quickly hot and done (thank God!)
oh what complications and complexties are presented
in owning and being owned by their things!
truth told, my talents never hid in the dirt, lodged there~
no, they are a gainfully employed silver note
and in accounting them, one needs compound and amortization
tidy red and black tickmarks, all marching in exercise for progeny
the consideration, the toil, the getting -- (whew!)
all but a baton to be passed, mycelium to spore
this investment is the thing, capital turnover--
the neccesary part of cultivation for handsome yields
and yet I find myself considering aptitude again, and
if a possible audit may be struck, a revision on my prior thought
perhaps my talent does reside in the soil afterall, though different--
and the parable, the steward, and God will one day balance it out