Fiddling

 Fiddling, fiddling

Fiddling, fiddling while homes burn  

Nero by comparison

Looks busy while we do nothing 

But offer thoughts and useless prayers. 

Why save a world for those

Who do not care nor lift a finger

To help or heal a dying planet

Stewing in their poison? 

Is the world worth saving

And if so for whom?

The unborn child?

The baby gosling?

Should we try to save the world 

For the thoughtless and the thankless?

Or for the weak and innocent 

The sinless and the blameless?

The useless Sunday prophets cry

The end of world is nigh

Where are you now of little faith 

Now that the noon is high?

You are flying on your private jets

Burning up your children’s futures

You’re eating food meant for the kids

And all future generations. 

You are all a waste of space 

Laughing loudly in the face

Of man and God

You whitened sepulchers. 

Find me ten just men 

To save this planet

But it will take more 

Than just ten men. 

In the long run

Weakened nature will dictate 

Who will perish 

And who are cherished. 

So mankind will in part survive

In villages removed from heat

In countries safe from cyclones

In hidden valleys and rampant jungles.