As, even now, I feel those powers fade
That I to end of writing verse arrayed,
And I look out upon the world afraid
To see how orange small-hand folk undo
The works done well before them, to my rue
And others' who would do as I would do,
I look upon technology of hope,
As others have described it, and cope
As best I can, instead of knotted rope
That some will seek to seek to halt their fall.
I know that all about us spreads a pall,
Upheld by those who would build towers tall
And live in them alone, and others spite.
I still contest it, work by wisdom's light.
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