ELLEN THE TALL ONE

Is this but the curse

Of a generation why?

Nee of infinite opportunity;

Self-sentenced to search.

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Limited by our own expectations,

Our own self-entitlement.

Not to be quenched by

Simple pleasures of generations past.

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Amid the unpromising Unknown

Glasses focused on an uncertainty, instability.

In the technological era full-blown,

A kaleidoscope projects endless possibility.

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Through which we star-gaze deeply,

Intent to claim our inimitability.

Perhaps the table is only booked for twenty?

Ahoy! Verdant green stratosphere in its entirety.

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Replete with all the elements

Known to alleged Existence.

Awash with flecks and fragments,

Insisting we strive for excellence.

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To seize and to snare,

To wield with gusto;

To harness, to tame,

To embody bare brio;

To conceptualise,

To create,

To adapt and

Later postulate;

To build and hone

Space-craft,

Express your desires,

Make them last;

To mould your niche,

To nurture;

Connect to the masses-

Go seek your fortune.

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Surely your cerebral clockwork ticks,

Injected with a dosage of possibility,

A fine slice of sour tangibility

Served on fine china of fragility.

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Let it simmer a little while,

Let it steep.

Do your desires take root?

How long is your piece of thread?

Has your vision gone viral?

Or the virus paralyses infrared?

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Bed-ridden by the overwhelming,

Frozen in the infinity of it all.

Only to fall short of the

Projected trajectory and nothing more.

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