Sunday, July 13, 2008

Ink and Oil

The miners dig and dig they do
Each and every last shard of oil,
that when they strike they throw the spades
and cry out loud "oh, what a spoil!"
"Yet it seems" the workman say,
"they may be more beneath this clay,
More oil to dig, more sights to see
of promises past and what's to be."
And so it seems, these fields of oil
will seep beneath the endless soil,
While we chase after, for fields of gold
or the wonders that lie below;
more oil to mine, more ink to know-
to clay and paper our lives are sold
till we hit the bedrock, a pit so deep
that no more does the oil do seep.
A pit in them and in us as well;
to climb out now? Only time will tell-
if this pit we dig brings gold and oil
or empty pools, once filled with joy.


Exams results were bleh, need to work harder in the future

Currently drafted into physics and chem olympiads, question
for self is whether i'm biting off more than I can chew

Always remember what mining does to the fertility
of the land

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