Temporary Light

Riding on the back of bullish charisma, you touch down
Infecting those caught in your storm with confused excitement
Blind to their own dismantling, they conform, wide-eyed and awestruck
Placing heaped plates of creativity and hope at your wandering feet
These diligent little worker ants await direction, but will inevitably starve
For you are oblivious to the furore; already restless; already moving on
Did no one tell them your light here was only temporary?

Touch Of Cinnamon