Artificial Structures

We spin webs of lies,

we build walls so thin,

to keep us safe within;

we never realize.

That there’s a wolf outside

trying to get in,

and when the end begins,

two worlds at once collide.

This is the end of the world,

now, it’s our turn.


We think a few layers thick,

some sheetrock, paint and design

will keep the hunger outside.

Wrapped in our bundles of sticks,

somehow, we’ll defy the storm.

We’ll survive the night until dawn.

How long did we think we’d go on?

So little keeping us safe and warm.

One good wind and it all goes away.

All our promises washed in the rain.


Our identities and our homes

just safety and respite,

illusions in the sight

of what we don’t see on our own.

Until the wolf comes in,

until the walls come down,

we’ll never know just how

we survive anything.

In the night, in the storm

is when we know our form.


Inside our walls,

inside our lies,

no big surprise

we’re not at all

who we think we are,

something soft and ripe

just prey, despite

having come so far.

Even  if we don’t fear it anymore,

there’s still a wolf at the door.


Stalking to and fro,

waiting for the door

to fall to the floor;

that’s the way it goes.

Al l our grand designs

fade in natures face,

words and walls displaced.

We all fall in time.

Food for the wolf,

or for the worms;

and the world still turns.


HG – 2019

Leave a Reply