I have always loved the outdoors and been in awe of the beauty of the world. Of late, I have become concerned about what kind of world my grandchildren will inherit. I blog at windofflowers.blogspot.com.au
The Phosphorescence Lapping
I raise my eyes in silence
towards the vast solemnity,
distant fading stars,
great symbols of eternity,
sensing that there is something
invisible, veiled from sight,
a portal to reach and tear
and reveal a realm of light,
words can never convey,
beyond this time-trapped
confluence of breath and clay—
only few have ever seen,
holy men in ages past
in prophecy, vision and dream
but then I know that all
can gaze upon the dew,
the moon upon the water,
the sky's ethereal blue
or in privileged reverence stare
in wonder and in awe
at the phosphorescence lapping
so close upon the shore.
First published in Poetry Quarterly
Unseen, we hovered above the planet.
It has retained much of its beauty:
grassed plains, high mountains, sky and cloud,
spectacular displays from land and sea.
However, we noted damage and scarring.
Floating islands of plastic and huge holes abound.
Grey smudges and stagnant water indicate
considerable pollution of air, water and ground.
We also noted the dominant species
has a limited, self-centred thinking.
Inequality and poverty are rife.
Egalitarian ideals appear to be shrinking.
Problems demand altered consciousness.
Poverty, resource plundering, increasing population,
primitive energy sources and climate warming
indicate a need for global cooperation.
Most of the wealth is controlled by a few.
To protect it they exploit a common flaw
which enables many to be easily manipulated
into the absurdity of destruction and war.
We believe they slumber in partial consciousness.
They are not yet fully awake.
Further development may require
an emotional and intellectual earthquake.
We will return in a millennium or two.
The species has potential for distinction.
We conclude with the hope that their folly
does not ultimately lead to their extinction.
First published at Social Justice Poetry
© 2017 Neil Creighton
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