Friday, February 19, 2010


So, what new story is there still to tell
Of how we’ll thrive in this millennium,
Now we’ve the power to unleash all hell
On Earth and blow ourselves to Kingdom Come?

Or, if not that, to kill our biosphere
With poisons, mass extinctions, over-breeding,
Ignoring all that’s wondrous, precious, dear,
Yet lost without true visionary leading.

Suppose we’re not a caterpillar still
But newly hatched from our damp chrysalis,
No more devouring the world to fill
Our ravenous maw, but now arrived at bliss.

Imagine too the beauty of our flight—
A monarch of this world who rules aright.