We Who Dined at the End

Here I am wondering yet again –        

What to write in the middle of the night

Writing helps me –        

Unleash the different kinds of my mind

News these days –        

Is always brittle, turning souls pale as Kittel

Or is it my imagination –        

Now most of us are phantoms, left only to boast

The greatness of our forefathers –        

Had brought us pious daylight with no end in sight

And now in the age of Us –        

The mind is tricksy... or perhaps is it always tipsy?

The razzle and dazzle –        

We are chasing rainbows, panacea to all our woes

All will be white –        

And we shall be the kind who once, together dined

The very Last Supper.