By Tony DeLorger © 2013
I see the crisp clean air freeze my breath,
clouds wafting then dissipating in the chill of day,
and I look back in my memory, my distant life,
when the sun spurned the dark chill of inaction.
Now it is too late, darkness breeds contempt,
for nature bent on retaliation, the sun denied,
and we in pristine white,
walk within the glue of our own undoing,
the filth of decades of neglect,
buried beneath a kilometre of ice.
How wretched our race, struggling to survive,
and doing what we have always done,
hate, steal, contend, war, and turn that white to red,
all in the name of humanity,
reckless, immoral, disrespectful, self-justifying,
sleeping like babies,
our behaviour sanctified by such understanding Gods.
When the end came, there was no regret,
just the fight for survival, at any cost,
kill for food, water, shelter,
being one step ahead of the elements,
the harsh resolve of balance,
that we ourselves created,
in our lust and greed.
How beautiful this landscape,
cleansed to a purity misunderstood,
and like a sponge to all the blood spilt,
culling the herd,
the pendulum swinging to extremes,
and we still no wiser than before.
The reality never changes,
only the circumstance.
Future is ours to determine, but whatever that is, is a collective responsibility, and each of us contribute, one way or another.