Condition Human

What is there to say?

When all of life lies in tatters

Devastated and destroyed

By our own wanton hands

It is we, the ungentle human

That stomps across this earth

Like some ungainly giant child

Smashing the toys that no longer amuse us

In time we may come to regret

To wish for a return of these things

But it will be too late

For not all things that are broken can be fixed

And to sit in the centre of that wreckage

The one of our own making

Bawling our little eyes out

Will do absolutely no good

It is time to grow up

To put away childish things

To accept the consequences

Of our crude and thoughtless actions

Pray to the god you believe in

Cross every finger you have

Salute the magpie and don’t walk under the ladder

And maybe…

Just maybe…

If we’re really lucky

We may discover

That in our mindless rampage

We did not crush

That which remains

That single grain of hope

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