Precipice
All the money in the world
won’t buy any of us an observatory
that can see into the future.
And even if we could afford one,
it would probably necessitate such a girth
no plot of ground could support the
weight of it.
Therefore, I am not even going to waste
my wishing upon a star for one.
Having done all I can do at this point,
I’ll just keep standing here
waiting,
as if a giant meteor is about to hit,
blasting through our atmosphere
in unbridled screaming furry,
its debris field leaving us all in the dark.
Of course, I’ve checked the flashlight’s battery,
but that beam is not going to make much difference
when the orange flames gnaw into all the progress
we’ve made
and the acrid amber tinted sooty smoke seeks to
fill the lungs of a people
yearning to breathe free.
There’s a purer flame’s torch to carry,
still a light upon which to hold
and pass on to our children,
and to theirs.
Fear is sweaty hand of love not yet made perfect
and it will only slicken our grip,
so we need to be courageous,
keep our peace and
hold on.
The flames of a refiner’s fire are the only ones
which dare touch a champion of justice.
It’s the teetering on the precipice of the unknown
which wants to infect and inject us
with an unnerving agent.
The only difference between
the two potential outcomes we face
is the type of opportunities presented before us
to do good on this earth,
and perhaps the vehicle by which
we will likely make our departure from it.
Either way, are we prepared?
I think we are prepared
I think I am prepared.
I believe I am ready.
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