Our freedoms imprison us.
Even now we want more than we need,
tho' we do not yet know what we want.
We do without knowing,
we know without doing.
We do without nothing.
Scaremonger the tip of our iceberg hearts.
This is this race of a thousand false starts,
and we, the runner, he player of parts.
We with the stones and the broken glass's.
You with your runaway greenhouse gases.
Her heart still molten,
we've frozen these assets.
This horse is gone,
yet we search for the locks.
We look to the skies,
we watch all the clocks.
The second hand,
our second thoughts.
This futile search,
these last resorts.
This weight of extinction is heavy,
shackling life's gift of buoyancy,
of optimism.
It pulls us under the rising tide of humanity.
We belong to the future,
it does not belong to us.
-
Author:
Yorke (
Offline) - Published: January 10th, 2017 20:19
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
Offline)
Comments3
Great write
Thank you 😀 I appreciate your reply.
Welcome
The fact that you write and realize this gives me hope that things could change.
We all have the power to change the world, but only all of us can change it.
Thank you for replying 🙂
🙂
Relevant and poignant.
Very well done. : )
Thank you for your kind words:)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.