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Michael Swift Jan 2012
There are different things under this sun,
things I would have never dreamed.
My wealth allowed me to experience
anything that my heart longed for.
But even kingship did not allow me to live
in the comfort provided to your poor.  
Tastes of ever kind line your shelves
your trash is a treasure to me.
Controlling temperature to your comfort
making light where darkness is.
Traveling across the world
before the sun can set over the western sky.
Still there is nothing new
all is meaningless in the end.
Michael Swift Jan 2012
Hiding from nature in a windowless room,
uniformed desks filled with society’s best.
No word is passed as they gaze at their toys
children lost in a world of selfishness.
A sea of people all different but the same.
One breaks the silence, attempts to connect.
Piercing glances from lives now interrupted.
Michael Swift Jan 2012
I straddle my throne holding on tight
Feeling safe, the needle rising,
becoming one, machine and man.
I do not know the land ahead.
Dark night masks its curves,
blurring trees pass by as I press on.
I have not been this way before
but my throne has never failed,
needle rising, pressing on.
The road leaves my track
heart stops, I can’t react.
Why have you failed me?
Violent separation, fallen from my throne,
Humbled and low unable to stand.

— The End —