affection

Too long have I remained obedient to the sordid

law of the jungle, striving to acquire some sleek

technique for scrambling to the top of the garbage heap -

leaping over other heads in the competition.

The vision stands of my latent capacity to emerge

(on a surge of destructive energy) as the most ruthless

of youthful despots, valid in the Dark Ages,

waging wars where the innocent are trampled down.

The sound of my own scream makes me tremble,

as I empathise with the victims' plight; but I'm right

in sight of worthier goals, where the whole horde

of broadly based humanity is planning to march.

I mounted a wrong train the station back,

so how's it done to switch along the track?