Lethargy Poem by Alex Rosak

We have time to propel the installation
Of a concept or an expectation,
Commune in the globe's confabulation,
Provide the subtlist of a connotation,
Even to propagate newsprung creation;

We may be brave, could upraise races
Or be cowards and unfill spaces,
Without a hint of yellowy traces
And look sturdy at twenty paces
Or be lucky, hold all the aces;

The palest shade of talent could
Have been seen clearly inside the wood,
The smallest stream, the tiniest bud
Have become a garden amongst the flood,
Not a famished weed in dried-up mud;

It could have been so different yet,
To have one ambition only, all the rest forget,
To have been seen through the world's lorgnette
As the man for the task, a sure safe bet,
To have seen vocation and appreciation met;

Remember me a little, we tell our peers
As we go unvarying throught the years
And when retrospective mists have cleared
A hollow puppet is greatly feared
To be the child our soul has reared;

And nowhere does our sculptor's chisel scrape,
We sit, lost in our hermetic landscape,
The needed and the needless tasks forsake,
Never stirring, but to make the mortal flesh awake
And so, in time, our forlorn estate we decimate.