Work was all that shimmered beside,
Until the lay of the land was knocked aside.
We can get by if we balance on Life bestride,
Our place of work has tilted to a contrasting side.
Some chose to be the men that matter,
Directing men and women that were inclined to scatter,
On a journey full of pluck for the weaker latter,
Electing life over death engaging in many a chatter.
A novel this gripping can be only so whetting,
Until an ant-climax can effect a turn of setting.
Some went about the drill with a lot of fretting,
Exposing themselves to the artificial netting.
A tide of imaginary fire has taken us by storm,
Testing the water as we are shaken smoky in form,
Adding smokeless schemes to our ocean to slay the corm,
And douse the flames entangling the fabric of our dorm.
Kindling an interest might obviate being kindled,
It was never a storm in a teacup that’s got one all rattled,
Fanning the flames of many a smouldering ego loath to be fondled;
‘Tis the winds of change that can now be blown, smothered and better handled.
Submitted to One Shot Wednesday: