Diminishing

By Cliff Lake

 

Diminishing

 

The gray times are upon us:

A diminishing,

A long twilight,

Though the sun warms hotter,

Its vigil is besmirched,

And the skies are no longer friendly.

 

Here we have proudfully wasted,

Our celebrations recall the dead,

The living going largely unnoticed,

Excepting garish blaring shoutings,

Lauding many unworthy,

Who think much less in return.

 

Onward we speed!

Rushing headlong to nowhere,

For all must retire at their end.

But while we continue,

We run,

Only to finally stop; we know not when.

 

Faster we fly!

In our wake,

Poison and oily waters,

Smokes and burnt land,

And as testament to our great pace,

The air browns nicely.


Those in the high place,

They elevate themselves ever higher,

To rise above the greases, and the sludges,

And make much of themselves,

And make worse messes,

For those below to clean.

 

These are the gray times,

We diminish:

We make the twilight.

And the sun burns all,

We fail our vigil,

And have made our world unfriendly.

 

Cliff Lake 2/1/2025

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2025

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

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