Climate is not certain, it appears and seems; or
varies by season in years deemed warm and cold.
Epochs have come and faded to past when men
wrung hands, spirits downcast, expecting a day
to become the last: ends of ages of man;
somehow persisted by chance and ingenuity
by providence or perspicuity [the wisdom of some few].
The weather has changed, climate is in a spin
more than the words used to pardon our sins
against air, land, and seas; humanity so weighty
your footsteps now tides do not wash away
the stains upon our shores, and we seem to ignore
that greed changes the world we so adore
that even a sneeze by 'billions blood' is a breeze
taking from oceans has left voids, places emptied
and yet we stand, more plentiful and abundant
than before. Disease in retreat and technology
to rescue the saving grace of the human race
in our hands, tireless djinn, great spirit of invention.
Oh so false the rosy eyed views, so much more to do
field’s poorly yield, water is scarce soon food fallows too.
Sickness simply waits like carrion birds circling starved land
for the quiet turned back, for the small helpless hands
for storms gather more and more force and strike without tears;
that will be left for us, in payment for many neglectful years.
Earth, sun and moon in their eternal dances
meteor pocked faces recall Nature's distant chances
we are authors of tragedy upon bluest stage
engines of ruin, foils and follies of an age
would we face the future of our descent,
when wills were failed by false intents
distant loved ones separated lost in tragic days
that we have made, dallied, or allowed to stay
the world must speak in one voice or may never be heard.
The Sun fed the earth and ages preserved heat
the black gold of wealth this world so deserved
now is the time while day still allows to remember how
the sun shines tomorrow, and we can feed anew, and now
change is the need, pressing thunderbolts upon caring hearts
to make a better place for our children, we simply must start.
Adding your comment:
Love, C
