Lots of Work for Gravediggers

This story is told in the extremes of collapse

As chaos unfolds

In the desperate gestures of human beings.  

Violence, fear, anger,

Reflexes in violence and deception

All in desperation’s quest.

Denial is having a hard time

Holding on to belief’s convictions

Out of reach of adaptations.

You would think the mind would change the heart?

Or

That the heart could change the mind?

But, this isn’t only an individual story

Where desperation blinds the vision of hope.

These are not singular in what is touched

When we look beyond our own horizons.

It is everywhere.

No wonder we don’t speak of this

To one another

It would impose on delusions desires.

Be strong, be wise, be smart,

Be calmed, beware, beguiled

The magic is gone.

Us isn’t them, them isn’t us.

We are each other revealed.

All are not yet in desperation’s grip,

Out of work,

Out of place.

Out of means.

When nobody knows who you are

Walking along on desperation’s road

Seeking to find your way in the circle of nothing.

Who can afford to embrace your needs

With nothing left of their own?

And when wealth won’t see,

Won’t include themselves in humanity.

Who is with me

Aboard the abandoned ship?

The life boats are gone

The bond of reliance is broken

And, concern is no longer valid to our kind.

Like kites flying on a broken string

Drifting away in fate’s wind

Scattered and tangled

Loosened from Nature’s grip

Untied and denied

No place to be in a meaningless trip.

So why do I speak of such emptiness?

To remind? To awaken? To remember?

Or is it meant for us to accept

The destiny of our humanity

In these closing times?

Or is it to help me feel complete

In the lonely desperation and the death

Of mine and all our kind?

Lots of work for gravediggers to meet.

NOTE: Please don’t share this with the children.