We are old souls.
We don’t have children.
The Earth is changing.
God bless,
it will wipe us all away.
We’ve had many children before.
They will live elsewhere.
Somewhere else
in the Stars.
Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
Tag: climate
When will the markets fall?
The ghosts of the Palatine know
this.
The futile obsolescence is
faith.
The pillaged and raped tomorrow
being the rich in this hour
with their orange groves.
The ghosts of the Palatine know
this
and yet they build more skyscrapers
in New York City
where the water is rising
and will rise before the migration
to space is possible
and the fiends of eternity will
perish.
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