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
