We weigh even more than the earth,
a plop, we sink, a stone in lake,
the sludge descends amidst our girth,
the gods now hide behind the stars
what fate of earth, of species seen,
and warning piles on where we’ve been,
the black of oil now runs our minds,
we dig the sand, a grave to clasp,
exploit and take, no breath to gasp.
It’s not over now, baby blue,
the false imposes such a cost,
we fear at what will next ensue,
unknown, unsure and full of doubt,
the wings of birds have lost their flight
while whales have lost their strength
and might, a weight of thought, a burden sears
with all astray and poles apart
and storms do strike and tear the heart.
And buries deep in graveyard close,
we long for wild strawberry most.
Poems from the Edge of Time