In a silent room
Sit seven philosophers
With muted thoughts
Eyes gazing at bloated vessels
Hairs standing on ends, but why?
Imaginations fleeting like a doe for her life -
Participatory yet non-indulgent
It helps they are mentally far, not nigh
Suddenly the air crackles with the sound
Of a dilapidated telecom set
Then it suddenly goes silent again
Excitement suddenly abound
Talks of mouldy moulds fill their ears
Something about dissecting success stories
And making them a replicable commodity
Confirms their worst fears
The day goes by
Like truant shadows on a much scarred wall
None the wiser they are
‘cause into a fantasy world their minds fly
Hopes rise as the sun dies
Maybe the voice will stop marauding now
Maybe we’ll be free of this insane affliction
But insanity keeps at it – the reprise
