Forensics

We have exhausted all leads
as the clock runs out.

People died. Who and what
we should blame is not clear.

If there’s a connecting thread
or line to explain what led to…this,

it remains unseen. It’s not a conspiracy thing;
shit’s just complicated.  Maybe some of it

is about malice, but mostly
it’s about acceptance

of unintended consequences
and ignorance of how to stop

thinking we are so damn omniscient.
We’re not, of course; that’s obvious.

We’re blind little beggars or huge deaf kings.
No one is paying attention,

or paying for us to pay attention.
We’re broke and we’re out of time.

If we want to know who did what,
if we are ever to learn that,

we are going to have to start time again.
Build a world differently — more windows and doors,

fewer walls.  And most of all
we’re going to have to build a better clock.

Something with longer hours, days, years.
Something based on the Mayan model, perhaps,

with lots
of resets.

— NOTE:  this is the 1400th poem posted here since 1/1/2010.   While I will likely continue to keep count for myself, I won’t be pursuing this kind of feat publicly again.