I do not want to look for Order anymore
Searching and sifting where only fragments lie
Finding meaning in showcase publications and old committee minutes
And non-responses here, and small responses there
Knowing any Structures found are probably Accidental.

Managers come and go again, I do not want
To be always stressing their flux, or their permanence
I do not want to feel, because of them, hopeful or hopeless
But to keep my eye only on the far horizon
And let their short-term thinking stay at the distance
Of midnight hyenas that dog night hunters.

So come stand, back to back, all lovers of some Clear Purpose
Scream out your frustration; stave off the hyenas
Don’t pause to care if they’re howling or laughing
But feel that other back against yours and know
That someone, somewhere in the Disorder
Is, like you, screaming at the waste of it.