Oh world,
The time has come to talk of things like ancient opium wars,
Of new drug wars and trade wars,
And old, but never forgotten memories;
A time to talk of novel viruses that rule a simple-minded people.
Where useless paper is hoarded by the rich and coveted by the poor.
It is time to think of long marches by impoverished people
looking for a better place to live only to be trampled at the end by a people unwilling to share,
knowing their own end is near.
It’s time we talk of no gods, of a million gods, and of three gods
vying for the position of the one True God.
In the blink of an eye, the world has changed.
The old ways will soon be but memories of an old man.
The young will dream of a past they never knew
as their leaders beat the drums of war
to an uncertain future:
hunger, starvation, sickness.
Death will soon be the new norm as the blind and ignorant masses are led by Demons.
Rejoice Earth, for the cancer will soon be wiped clean.
Dawn will break anew.
Where those who saw the coming storm will rebuild again.
The new old men will talk of mad presidents and trinket wars,
Of useless travels and forbidden pleasures.
Where a generation long gone lived for themselves.
In hushed whispers the past and all its atrocities will now be told.

—Andy Jones—poem –Oct. 15, 2020— original