OUR TYME

Shadows that no Ionger
Look like ours
The world is so changed
In our tyme
We are forced to wear
Our left shoe
On our right foot
Lies seem to serve
Best as truth

 
The traditional dancers
Of our tyme
Have lost their rhythm
To modernity
We no longer trust
Our existence
We feel so tall
When in sooth
We are but midgets
Where did the whole world go?
Was it possible for us all
To sleep for so long?
One and twenty sunrises past
And this is our pride of civility

 
I wish to play Noah
In the re-destruction of this
Beautiful but inconvenient setting

 
Change is one thing
We cannot avoid
And technology
Our greatest adversary

The Ambic Philosophe

Copyright © 2006 Ambrose Thompson Arthur

In Ghana: All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any means, electronic storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher or under licencc from the Copyright Licensing Limited.