Two parties diverged in a forest,
And I wondered which would fare the poorest
Both seemed to be lost, enrutted and wounded,
Largely unready and probably spoon-fed,
Dressed for another clime with different weather,
In green felt, top hats, white gloves and leather.
As the two parties departed the other's company
And I wondered which would first reach their destination, if any
Tired, perhaps, indifferent, most likely,
Meandering confused, outspoken and hikely,
Certain of evil, puzzled by good,
Unsure of the trees and lost to the wood.
But as the parties grew further apart,
And I wondered what beacon shone on each group's heart,
It seemed the further they treaded
The nearer they headed
To the same dark part of the groveland,
Never separated, but for their hooves which were cloven.
PARTY, n. A silo for the fermentation of folly and fratricide.
Happy birthday to Mo'a
, I think.