Revised sonnet #214
I hang inside this silk bouyant big balloon
As clouds accost and exit easy boil
To trace the world outside charcoal cartoon
The star forts far flung found on foreign soil
The sails of ships are globes of metal foil
The wind to wheel and rudder all they lead
Around the compass slide the cogs in oil
The rigging minimal and made of weed
Afraid of heights you wait on bridge take heed
One day theyll reengineer the next jot miss
To lesser population lay out creed
Smoke stack stink capital necropolis
The crematorium factories of caste
The bone tea sets if modern made to last
Chorus caste order stratum
