Burn down the telescopes;
they’ve let us see too much.
Crash all the aeroplanes;
we have reached out and touched
everything with our decaying hands.
Dreamed up in our minds for war,
the End of Times in far off lands,
but powerless when it is at our door.
By some insane design,
or random chance;
us humans,
as a species,
we advance
towards some unknown order,
in the way
of others long forgotten,
passed away.
But for this endless game
of “Cat and Rat”,
chasing ourselves
right back into the black
of endless time
and hopeless oblivion,
or do we find a way to carry on?
Our own backyards
festooned with filth and waste.
Our eyes up high,
ambitions known no chaste,
nor guiding hand,
we have not turned aside.
Salvation in the bin
with God denied.
No divine,
for power only corrupts,
and pulls the milking mother
from her pups,
and raises them
as only dogs of war.
We have unleashed the hounds
to take our score.
So why gaze deep
in galaxies far off?
Why reach our hand,
if not to find what’s lost?
There’s naught to gain,
if we can’t make the truth
sacred in our branches
and our roots.
Burn the telescopes
and crash the planes.
Feed the poor
and warm them with the flames.
For progress happens first
in our own minds;
leaping forward,
leaving us behind.
When will we be satisfied?
HG – 2019