When your lane is congested and slow
Your eyes and heart are evermore
Envying those on the other lane
That is going in the opposite direction
That is so free and fast in motion
But only by staying put on your lane
And fighting off the temptation
Will the arrival be a revolution
Can a cake really be made in a heartbeat?
And in the same heartbeat, can it be a treat?
There is time when the cake must be baked
When ingredients must be dutifully gathered
When the flour must be carefully measured
And into the super bowl ceremoniously emptied
When the eggs must be nicely scrambled
And into the flour unceremoniously dumped
When the milk, the sugar and the butter
Must too be added to bring in more flavor
The thumb buries his head in the sand
He knows that the whole pointing is pointless
He finds shame in participating in this,
This accusation of the other party
But the thumb lacks the guts to dare the self,
That is wasting time looking for excuses
He finds himself between a rock and a hard place
Not brave enough to point one way
Or the other way, the thumb abstains
