If every single partisan one

Would just pay attention

All at the same time

In holy silent unison

To the voice of a life-giver

That would be something fated

Not serendipitous at all

It would be much like

A sacred choir of mutes

All intent on only listening

To the only One meant to speak

To a whole gadabout world

Finally realizing the dark of their need

Oh, they all have holes in their pockets

So they talk big talker’s talks

And accuse each other of crowing

So, a dampening startling smack

Is exactly what is needed

To hush the hounds of hell

And highlight the Know-it-All.