When he isn't fending and restraining
Beings in murderous rage and rampancy
Of broken systems and IT's mange
He has often seen
Many a youth onboard and off
They come and go like moths to a flame
Some die in the burning hells of conferences
He stands there, watchful and mild
As he gathers it all, and calms the storm
He may earn his bread there, doing his chore
But his heart is at Llela's
Amongst delicate butterflies
The blooming purple Wisterias
The pond herons.
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