Written By:   Birl Brown

God’s finger burned ten trillion trees

Ere man could learn to light a fire:

Progress crept like slow disease

While trial and error bred desire.

Man crawled forever on his knees

Before he learned to walk erect:

He slowly, slowly, found the keys

To his emerging intellect.

Paths to progress all will differ

As their wayward travelers do

Some move slowly, others swifter

In the search for what is true.

Many are the traps and eddies

Besetting all routes undefined,

Every minute lying dead is

Sifting ore now thrice refined.

Of the many point directions,

One on any compass rose is true

To a course’s plot projection

And the others will not do.

To many, there is always fantasy

                        When the real world seems so blue

And the trip seems far too chancy

In a risky world to do,

But, the ultimate in this madness

Is a  fallacious point-of-view:

The one eternal sadness