We all are searching for a better time--
It drives the restlessness of feet and mind--
It is the reason that creators find
The newness in the world that is their crime
And on whose wooden steps the world must climb
Even as they are burning it and bind
The makers and discoverers, unwind
This complex world and return to grime.
A world of beauty--that is each one's aim--
Some want a Rothko world, so simplified--
Some want a Dali world, a nightmare scene--
Some want a Michelangelo to flame
The world in deep complexity denied
By those who fear what isn't pure and clean.
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