It’s Always, Always About Me
I am the Oppenheimer in some
Grand and monstrous thing
Snatching a regrettable future
From the jaws of ignominious defeat.
I find myself the lynchpin
In a fragile structure
That fears my touch.
I have been given a cursed key
To open fanciful doors,
A key to a grand conspiracy
To save the world from mediocrity.
The conceit of such endeavours!
If I look too closely
I will see Narcissus staring balefully back
And catch a scent of hubris
On the air.
I am the king
Of unintended consequences
And rue the day I began this nonsense.
I’ve likely done more harm
To the literary community
Than I have good
And while I do offer excuses,
I rarely offer explanations.
Palimpsest 
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