Ah, the torment !
Am I to respond, to retort ?
I yelled for my pen was pent,
Perhaps here's an answer, albeit short,
You called for the unseen ears,
Quiet, I longed for the leading feathers,
Perhaps without even knowing,
And yet, here I am, once again writing,
I fear I may carry some rust,
But since the cause is noble,
May we once more shake this dust,
And with words rebuild atop this poetic rubble.