Such an ill-contrived endeavor,
I sit in a seat of sable steal
pondering the universe
and the quantum entangled states
of ideals that are not real.

Capriciously fools exhort
nodding their heads in retort
with dumbfounded stares.
Masses move to compare
old precepts to new ones
and discard the modern
for the medieval minds
that they prefer.

With consternation and sagacity
I dread the society placed before me
appalled by all I fear
certain a stint of dark ages will soon
reappear here
I importune,
I plead with the buffoon
but he finds me to be
so, jejune.