The reluctant minion has tears in his eyes.
And a grimace on his face—
He has he been crying...
Or... Has he been laughing?!
Blind to his torment and predicament
the lordships roar timidly into
the imagined horizons of gold and glitter.
They ride on shifty waves of delusion;
Powered by gusty winds of arrogance.
Self-righteousness is their only map.
And the destination, a vague presumption.
The minion surveys the flagship and sighs—
Where are the oars?
Where is the rudder?