A world made of smaller ones
Divisive groups, fearful schemes
Keeping them far away from us
Filtered through media screens
In oblivion lives are lived apart
Hoarding what we have gained
Seeing more of the differences
And not how we are the same
Dice were rolled, we were born
The gamble of better or worse
With blinders covering our eyes
Some are blessed, others cursed
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 