The Elders of the Human Race

At times I think it’s all in vain;
I feel the chill – depressions rain.
The soaking downpour of despair
that says “There is no hope out there.”
I see the world – a bloody shame;
how could we do this – who’s to blame.
But then there’s days I wake and say
“It’s time to fight another day.”
For when the future is so glum
it is so easy to feel numb.
In the mirror I do then spy
a man who says “this cannot die.”
“We have to work to save it all,
or battle on until we fall
for surrender’s not an option here
and neither’s losing to our fear.”
So though the future looks quite bleak
surrender now is for the weak;
none can afford to be that way
if our kids are to have their day.
The legacy we now should leave
is not a thing that we should grieve,
but more an Earth, a wondrous place
saved by Elders of the human race.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
This entry was posted in Green Poetry, Life, nature, Politics, Spirit. Bookmark the permalink.

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