What a thing is song!
What a rare and striking thing!
As precious as the now is long;
So throw back you head and sing!
And sing of the foremost, makeshift fields,
Now neatly drilled with unnatural seed
To eke out ever greater yields
To sate the planet’s shameless greed.
And sing of the vast, enduring seas,
Which mill the stiff cliffs into sand;
Warming now by a mere few degrees
But still enough to poach the land.
And sing of the non-existent sky,
Obscured from sight by a ton of smog.
Though once as clear as the Master’s eye,
It likens that of a lifeless dog.
And sing of the termite – humankind –
Up to its neck in a vat of tears
Shed by its grave, unseeing mind,
Which takes what is for what appears.
And, when your voice begins to crack,
As voices do approaching death,
Throw once again your bent head back
And draw an everlasting breath.
And sing of the larger universe,
Floating in a golden dish;
Oblivious to the human curse,
As it succumbs to its vain death wish.
Photo by Ryk Naves on Unsplash
