Everything is normal to a mirror
yet to the new eyes
the company stands on the wrong track
allowing traversing of sea-less clouds
above the company’s bald roof
and below
on the land
transferring of the driver’s seat
from the sky-looking father
to the sky-snatching son
provoking
the son and his commercial magic
to set the Thames on fire
at the very outset
commanding his obedient assistants
to run in the same groove
setting all confusions and hesitations at rest
from the secret path
linking Eldorado with the company’s treasury
for soliciting a big push
to bring the company again on its right track
immersing the obsolete paternal hymns
of ethics and humanity
and injecting his self-made cocktail –
a mixture of nectar and hemlock,
to turn the walking profit into a galloping horse
and the barren cloud into the fertile one
which must germinate the plant of a smile
on the lips of the rough and tough son.
