"Tectonic"

Let’s stop this war.  

Soon.  

 

Our frustration

Is like ground-shaking bombs,

Exploding with shrapnel

And black against the dusty sky.  

 

The earth coughs and bleeds with us,

Growing impatient for these constant battles to end -

For us to be friends -

But also prepared to die.  

 

Something in the core

Churns and yearns for a resolution.  

Maybe 2017 will be okay.  

After about 200,000 years of the existence of modern humans,

We should have sympathy

For our own kind and for our Mother Earth.  

 

Imagine

If the world were to suddenly take matter into its own hands,

To shift and shape itself,

Bringing us all together -

Physically.  

 

A needed Pangea:

Would it serve us well,

Or would it lead to self-destruction?  

Why ask?

It’s not like it would happen, anyway.  

 

What can happen in 2017,

While the world and ourselves

Are impatiently waiting

For massive change…

 

Or at least a little bit every day?

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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