What fury seizes me when fools hold sway,
When blunted minds preside and none protest,
When those who cannot see presume to say
Which path we take, and put our work to test.
I bite my tongue until the iron taste
Of silence bleeds — yet still I must defer
To those whose stewardship is nought but waste,
Whose word is law, whose vision is a blur.
Yet who am I to rail against the night?
I search my anger and am shamed to find
That pride, not justice, kindles all this light —
’Tis vanity that so inflames my mind.
The fault I name in others is my own:
A king of self, upon a rented throne.
"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives." – Annie Dillard