The tortured few who could not choose,
Cathedral windows with mirrored views,
The haunting memories they'll never lose...
Worshipping a cause long lost,
Their blinded eyes bleed tears unstopped;
Their nuclear, frost-bitten skin
Peels off in shreds to atone their sins
Beyond the windows
The rain still falls,
Strikes the leaded walls
Inside their cathedral,
They sit at the controls;
The militant leaders,
The last living souls...
(From "Tale Spin and Visions of Transition", © 2001, 2003.)