and nothing really happened
until a storm from the south
breached the enclave and blackened.
Then the smallest god
stood up and spoke his piece:
Nothing will change ever.
The people are not geese--
Geese ride together in the sky,
each takes a turn in front.
They depend on each other
when the wind becomes too blunt.
If people could lead and follow,
a lot of this would be solved--
so my suggestion--
let the people evolve.