Dire is the End (Poem)

Peter pays for Paul in this wicked age
Dire is the end of this system of slaves

Bemused by dazzling paltry things
As the land turns to desert
And the seas are besieged

Poison air and plastic rain
Pesticides pollute the plains

Nothing left to call pristine
As we capitalize off all the living

‘The world is ours,’ said the kings of sin
‘Let our means subdue the whole world to no end’

With their actions and words they invited death
Considered it a friend
Made a covenant with it

A whirl of desire
The transformation of ways
Corruption of innocent minds

Through perverse counsel they fettered the world
With invisible chains unhinging the poor

Few have requited an unsullied life
The debt of their sins piled high

Bereft of any thought resembling wisdom
Queen Zion is nowhere is sight

May judgement be stern for the exalted
And may the lowly be pardoned by grace

As the wiles of this wicked generation
entice the end of days

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