What is mankind
to the stars and the moon—
a fathomless sky, whose rotations
circle the breadth of a life.
how humankind is tended to
with mindful fingers, poignant
as if we are new spring shoots
or dew dropping from a rose bush.

Why do we in our bumbling
act as lords holding
boundless galaxies within our eyes.
yet when I look,
I find nothing beyond
treasures cast aside like plastic soldiers
lost under the rug and caught
between our feet and hardwood.

Birds like haunted pilgrims
no longer soar to the sky
The sea, a baren desert
except for crumbling graveyards
Flocks and herds lay rotted,
half eaten and bloated beneath
the mournful gaze of mountains
Anguishing—
How long,

How long.

© Fae Hilscher