melissaahowells
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You
will all of your makers meet... for making a world of diaspora a chronic tired world of war, refugees, and endless suffering human misery. Karma waits for you thundering on the other side... there is no place for You to hide... You will not even become an ant nor a microbe nor the dreaded genocide of a plague-like disease. You will inherit the grandeur of none of these. Your Gods shall make of you the most despised and Your meddlesome mud will be as He and She doth please and surmise. You will be immovable fragments unless kicked, picked up, tossed then thrown... You shall be pebbles for your hearts of stone. You will feel nothing, and not know true human touch, not even the bitter hatred of men... You will not feel its brush rush by You. You will be transformed into the rubble You made of others lives. Barely contemplated a fate much worse for You for fear was your prize... and a dependency on life's grand ferocity and hatred pulled You through... It was once the rare stuff which made You live and breathe: And now You all will be dubbed and deemed... " unmanly for the fact of Your trampling down of the earth and all of humanity while fooling Yourselves into thinking you are the betters of everyone and everything.*" So now where Is Your puny crown? Your Gods now rise high above You and they are laughing. ^*Paraphrased reference to a Mahatma Gandhi quotation. May He be blessed wherever He is. "Be the change in the world you want to see." Melissa A Howells Meloo Tilt-a-World Copyright August 26, 2013 All Rights Reserved By this Author 4am on a sleepless night Vote for this poem |
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