We were restless,
it seems,
to ascend
and to be justified
in our silly little ruts
of identity.
We had been programmed,
filtered of our instincts
and left to abscond
from temptation.
Now,
in this burning shard
of what safety remains
after the rise
of global aggressions,
humanity winces
as toxic smoke
fills our veins
and the Sun
is black in the sky.
We know,
of course,
that it was indeed
the fault
of all the pollutions,
the endless wars in Asia,
and the meltdown
in Iran.
What we could not
have predicted,
however,
was the ambient
sense of regret
for our brutal
lack of preparedness
and tact.
Here,
in the sickly wisdom
of the 23rd century,
we hold on like vultures
to the dwindling threads
of our humanity;
the ice was our master,
and we became slaves.
