Friday, April 8, 2011

April 8

He was tired,
Heart sick really.
Raised a scientist
Rational, empirical…
The data was startling, jarring:
There is big change coming the data said,
And it will be bad, worse than bad,
Calamitous, Catastrophic.
We can kid, or ignore or deny
We can avoid, place blame, deny blame.
It doesn’t really matter,
For nothing will likely change the course;
Positive climate feedback, academically
Apocalyptic, in reality.
But raised and awakened in the Sixties
He also carried a flame
Kindled in passion
Which ran parallel to,
Not necessarily counter to what seemed
Obvious and apparent.
The flame was hope.
Hope immeasurable but highly observable,
Hope for the future,
Hope that hardship, fear, and uncertain change
However challenging, however frightening
Could be mitigated through good works
Could become the new world
Different but also beautiful
A strange new age of Aquarius
Adaptive and unifying
Where one love, with such great power,
Crossing borders and oceans,
Could still find a way.
And then he heard the voices of
A thousand-thousand
Singing their songs of hope,
Singing his song too.
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