The Mole

Crafting complete bottles of glass

The mole grinds through its day, tirelessly,

Stopping to ponder at one opportune moment

This one perfect moment

What lies beyond this and above my head?

Tell me, Mr. Heston, what did you discover in the Forbidden Zone?

When will that musket be pried from your cold dead hands, you damn dirty ape?

Then the mole suddenly realizes with a frightful start

That he is blind

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