Clearing in the Evening

Here in the fog

we are all ghosts.

We are islands,

tied and bereft of others.

Reach out your hands,

reach out with your mind

and now we’re all just

running blind.

When we find each other

we collide.

 

Where has the Sun gone?

It used to burn free our vision;

now we survive

by disguise and by attrition.

More displaced

from sense of home

and hearts so stricken.

Even sounds are dull,

the fog begins to thicken

and we lose each other.

 

These are the days,

this is the age

of madmen.

It seems the time has come again

to beat the plow.

We thought that we had bought

some peace with our generations,

but our future sees the Taxman

coming now.

We used to be so proud.

 

Our first mistake

must have been

hitting the ground running,

heading full speed

into something

fists full of nothing.

Thought our credit was good,

platinum status.

We thought we had this one in the bag,

but that was just avarice.

 

There’s that big, red button

for pushing,

that sets the sky on fire.

Gonna warm up the globe,

let’s see who’ll be a denier.

We’re naked under our clothes,

but that don’t matter where we’re gonna go.

The fog will all be burned away.

I’m sure we’re gonna see clearly

in the split second

before the blast wave

and then it all isn’t gonna matter

anyway.

 

Don’t be afraid,

it won’t be today.

Good things only come

to those who wait.

I bet you’re going to wish

you’d reached out more.

I’ll bet you listened

to the whispers at the door,

when it’s all gone

and everything is ashes and silence;

our vision restored

in time to find

we’ve been allied

with genocide

and seen the end of war.

 

In the clear light of day,

we will all be ghosts.

 

HG – 2017

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