Globalisation
A perennial gale of creative destruction,
As astutely claimed by Schumpeter,
Heralding a redefition of foundations,
Brazenly he sallies forth, our trumpeter.
See the haughty French Connoisseur,
Sniff and quaff nouveau American liquor,
His plump oriental Turkish neighbour,
Plants a splendid Christmas douglas fir.
See the proud Chinese gentleman,
Quietly order a hamburger for his son,
Right behind the hunched British war veteran,
Chewing sagely on exotic herbal medicine.
See the spiffily dressed Iranian banker,
Sweating over his Russian grammar,
His friend the buoyant Mexican pastor,
Hums a pop song, tapping his fingers.
Wave away those parochial purists,
The world is not a rigid copper mould,
Checked by hysterical moralists,
Each lacking a sophisticated soul.
For culture embraces and not shuns,
Dynamic people bouncing off ideas,
Behold, it encompasses everyone,
Yes, even that insular deacon.
There is naught a single save haven,
An isolated community or mighty nation,
Concrete and staunch enough to withstand,
This evolving marvel's outstretched hands