They say that time moves on, ultimately it tells it all

I guess that’s true and may explain the depth of this great fall

It seems that we, and our world won’t ever be the same.

Perhaps that’s the blessing in this tragic human game

We’ve created such a mess, we let the greedy lead the way

With sacred rituals shredded down, all thin, and bare and frayed

This planet that we share is throwing off all that’s not needed

We should have heard the call, but blazing signs were never heeded.

We shrugged and we side-stepped and we shit on holy ground

And now we find ourselves inside this vortex heading down

We are not in control, and in fact have never been

Do we regret the poor decisions that were made way back when?

When the winds of possibility gently pushed us towards the light

But instead all wanted more of the power and the might

The males took the wheel driving far into the darkness

Led by many troubled souls, with no contour only starkness

Money and the jewel of flashy houses, guns and cars

Pushed for most to cheat and steal while up the hill they charged

The summit was scattered garbage and the remnants of their choices

No air to breathe, no trees to nourish, no truth from velvet voices.

So what do we do now, can we dodge the great unknown?

Or be the winds of change so bold, stir the many seeds we’ve sewn.

Tricia Schwaba April 8, 2020