
Photo by Artem Beliaikin on Unsplash
A poem for the earth…
I Reckon The End Will Come
I reckon that the end will come
one summer day for all of us
sooner than we can imagine—
but who will be left here to care?
I reckon the once vibrant seas
will overflow with the carnage,
that is sadly vacant of life,
but who will be here to care?
I reckon no longer will we pass
our heirloom treasures on to those
generations who come after—-
but who will be here to care?
I reckon decay will someday
over take us, who are scattered
by the reckless without regard,
but who will be here to care?
I reckon when the last tall tree
is felled by careless apathy,
then the forests will lie barren,
but who will be here to care?
I reckon the poison of greed
will birth the realization
that life is not grown with money,
but who will be here to care?
--a draft by cjpjordan