The weakening wind

What with the wind of the
power universal
at your back,
	Yet you whither and fragment!

So gentle a breeze as
against the streaming tide
of omnipotence
	Yet you blanch and regret!

How must the stream
of ages sputter when
	So will you screech and moan!

Set for the seedlings
the flexible arena,
take them apart
	And falsehoods shall your voice intone.