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