To Abstract Thought

List not, oh berated idol
to effusions of apostles
following your padded paths.
Smile, imp, at the hooks
tangling with their leggings
and borne away in triumph
out of the blossoming wreckage.
Laugh cynic, at their looks
concentrating on a nothingness
that they make meaningful.

I wandered through your dim bowers
slowly, sadly living the lie;
for only learthern soles crushed the flowers
while my eye roamed wildly in the sky.

Ralph Unger.