writer asks:
Do you not care what is happening?

Poet replies:  
All is temporal.

writer pleads:
Have you no compassion?

Poet replies:
Is fashion a spirit?  Does vanity know the chasms of soul?

writer whines:
You, self serving, aggrandizer are final judgement?

Poet replies:
Can leaf know tree?  To rail with gust of wind is the province of comedy and drama.  Has a speck ever envisioned a vast horizon?  Does even a star shine in the vacuums of the cosmos?  Dear poor writer, keep to jottings and fickle weathers and not worry yourself on any numina or contemplations.