What Used To Be
by Michael Doyle

I remember when I showed my daughter
What it was that used to once be
Shared like a loving father
In the twenty-second century

We dominated with technology
Forgetting the natural carrying capacity
And reframed the world in ugliness
To which her generation was living witness

We thought we could fix everything
And how we live in a world to which we cling
There are the symptoms of our toxicity
We cannot overcome this to restore our ecology

We write the ending of our own stories
With either grasp of Heaven or blaze of glory
This is the paradox we've left as legacy
To our surviving children of the 22nd century

Yet, we still rely on our technology
Despite evidence of lacking ingenuity
Déjà vu, we've lived this through before
And it seems the prospects are rather poor

Though every part of life has its urgency
Sadly, most all candid answers lack certainty
What, then, is our best remaining Plan B?
There is none.  It's more than plain to see

Isn't it just like heroes to fight to win
Even where loss is certain before the fight begins
This is the way of all the world's fighting men
We won't always win.  Why try to pretend?

But fight we must, and fight we do
Giving our best and paying our dues
Praying we will find our version of a win
And somehow live to fight yet again

This is the story told at a wicked pace
It will be victory. Or, the end of the human race.
Even when we have no wings left to fly
This is our mission. Be it do or be it die!

(c) September 21, 2023  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved