One morning, a child took a step
Given a heavy choice, the burden of an adept
Given by a Mother, a modern day Lady Macbeth
That day, the child's soul darkened a depth

One high noon, a boy sang his tune
Not of joy, but chaos and ruin
In a little box, too much a drone like their own
With courage the boy fashioned himself a clone

On the dusk of one day, a man wept on his knees
For the greed and all the need
What we bleed for our own creeds
He grew strong seeding all the wisdom his knowledge could feed.

On the husk of the same night, a man held a scale in his hand
On each a foundation, one of love, and one of a life too grand
King of a proud nation, beloved father; an etymology planned
Even a clairvoyant couldn't see which position he'd man.

An old crow looked upon his life, sanity in tow
Remembering a light, a feeling he ought to know
That of purpose, of old money and status quo
For the wisest know, there is no escaping how old we grow.