The ancient ivories,
Say it’s not so.
Make the calls for us all below.
Wining and dining,
With whom they choose.
Ignoring or lifting,
And constantly shifting.
Follow the lead
Of the one chosen seed
Inside so much accumulated greed.
Can do no wrong
But, does that equal right?
Whose hands are we in, anyway,
Is this even our fight?
DoRee MelNic 