It is time to ask whether the oceans will seay,
When the waters grow purple,
Our sky turns green,
As we stumble to catch what it means.
I’m sure they will bubble,
Bringing lonesome shells to the surface.
The acidification is benign,
When the entire system is its tumor.
It’s the new normal,
Slivers of blue the abnormal.
Its not for our hands or our lungs or out bodies,
It’s our mistake;
Belonging to everybody.
We’re moving forward
Trying to catch up, always.
To ourselves and to our ideals,
While running backwards.
If the hills could speak,
What gossip would they leak?
Nothing on me, of course.
I’ve steward this land,
Picked gravel within the sand.
But what they’d say about you,
Or you or you,
No one truly knows.
Or what if we saw through the eye of a crow?
What tragedies have we missed in our censuses?
Or possibly even missing life sentences,
One that I don’t think we’re ready for.
I can see through his hollowed-out oak.
It hid under Mystery and Suspense’s cloak.
Dabbled in longing,
Suffocating in chance.
This tug-of-war thread took is toll on this old oak.
I can see the ringlets along the bark.
I told you it was dark.
I think I lost my way.
My pen can’t seem to find my page.
I’m writing upon the air,
My creativity seemingly from nowhere.
And even when it’s here,
Far from free.
I don’t know how I could have lost my mind.
My spirit is here,
Alive, but trampled.
I don’t know what attacked,
Nor how or where,
But the nothingness is ample,
I’ll give you this sample.
My mind has since betrayed me.
I don’t think my page is done,
But maybe it needs some clearing.
Or maybe it requires some unbeknownst demand.
Hands in cuffs, it’s time for a reprimand.
I threw my hat in the air.
With all the laughter about,
No end within sight,
We screamed or we’d shout.
Here’s to the victors of glee and might.
No one stops to evaluate what victory means,
Or how the other must feel.
We squeeze and we glean;
Take all the joy and the pawn while they kneel.
Mark their heads with our seals,
But the laughter can’t last forever.
It’s a tarnished endeavor.
I watch my hat hit the ground.
Long and far.
Our grounds are soiled,
No joys to spawn.
My hat hits dirt.
The sound, all hollow, resonates their hurts.
I can see what they mean,
When they settle down next to me.
We’re all looking for shade,
But I can’t cover them for long.