Great Powers' Powerlessness

Great powers engage, become powerless,
This is the great game, a miniscule game,
With great casualties, recondite causes,
Nature births more to vainglory and die

Such fools we mortals be to strut and preen
Always cross at cross purposes within
Ourselves and in the surround we push up
Against around ourselves we misperceive

The arrayed ranks of misery do not
Bend or buckle, need fly no flags to claim
Dominion of their vast territory
They whisper and whimper in hold of night

A singer’s sole boast is he owns himself
As much a fool as his next tuneless kin