What Time? What Hope?

                                                                                Guardians of Evil ~ Philip Brent Harris

~~~~~

Being greedy
In small steps.
Grabbing what,
What you want,
As though
It’s yours,
By right
Or rite.
Casting bones,
Waving feathers,
Odds and ends
Imbued with power.
At midnight,
Any hour
Darkness hides
Our fright,
Our trepidation,
Nervous laughter.

Hoping, hoping,
Longing to know
The secret,
Wrest the prize,
The surprise
You know
Has been hidden
From you.
Fiery dawn,
Moonlit stroll,
Menhirs, monoliths,
Arcane ages past,
Revealed, laid bare
To you, for you,
At last.

Rain and tides,
Time’s river quickens.
Blood flows red,
Flight or fright,
Dragged along
Raging rapids
Into the whirlpool.
Torn, tattered,
Grasping at threads,
Slim chances.
Weaving madly,
Muses and Fates,
Altered states,
Warp and weft
Grow before us,
Unravel behind.
Meaningless clues,
Tears and years,
Lean times,
Peace and plenty.

What would we pay
To possess
That which
Is already ours?
Sea and stars,
Clouds, mountains
Trees, grass, worms.
Each, in its day,
In its season,
No rhyme, no reason.
Merely pieces,
Ingredients melded
To conceive us,
Our domain.
Hurled through space,
Life’s confection,
Savory morsel
We would
Some way ensorcel.

We would have
And hold, grasp,
Consume with gusto,
Rife, robusto.
And yet. we
Self-appointed chefs
Have stinted.

Eaten the butter.
The meat.
Key ingredients
Without which
It’s dumpster fodder.
Taste fouled,
Empty calories,
Missing erg,
Countryside, bergs,

Falling flat
Upon our faces.
Without race, races,
Life polluted, stained,
Strife and strain,
Pillage and rape
Mayhem, murder
Ransacking our home
Assassinating ourselves
Are we
Without choice
Toss of the dice
Raise your voice
Drown the drum’s
Rat-a-tat
The trumpet’s
Harsh clarion call
To war, to hate
Can we
Save ourselves
Or has
It become too late
Have we become
Simply late?

~~~~~

Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength, Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment

~~~~~

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