There was a mist at the top of the cliff
Laden with a blissful haze adrift
Nor the bolders could attest to the Sun’s witt
A remorseful air smothered the human grit
From which toil and blood sealed it’s own fate
A whimpering reminder of quant gains manifest
To lure humankind from it’s internal consequest
To harm thyself and wrought its earthly tutelage
A tale of woe succumbing to a ruinous montage
Of humankind’s constant existential parsonage