Thought Picnic: Murdering the wheel

A journey to pain

For we found a road so rough that we thought we would reinvent the wheel to make the ride smoother than it had ever been.

So is the wisdom of they with whom we have to deal and yet the pain that results from our shaken bones, neither the ride nor the journey brings any comfort than a terror for a future we must prevent at all costs.

The horse in gallop was given too great a wallop, it died in stride the rider fallen, broke his neck, but lived to tell a tale never looking like he once looked or anyone looks if they were well.

A journey to gain

A lament, a fidget, a curse, yea, bless the man who sees a rope and hangs himself instead, why bring woe to things so simple because ye knowest not what to do when a rope is given thee?

May the sun set on the day when what is easy is made difficult by the atrocious, the wise in their own ways, but hardly in the ways in the really wise – what a battle to fight, a victory to extract, may peace come to his soul, the writer of these words and his anger be quelled by reason appealing to those who can see reason and will be persuaded by the reasonable.

It hurts, it pains, it bleeds, the wheel is strong, the work must be on the road. Be gone, ye workers of iniquitous scripts, be gone. Let us rescue the wheel from vandals of true progress who complicate things to assure their indispensability and their selfish places.