The Emperor Has No Sustainability

When you feel the world is going to hell

Remember hell’s just a story we tell

Just a fear we release into the air

And then pretend to find it there

Like Iranian nukes, Iraq’s WMDs,

Or Manuel Noriega in his evil underwear.

(It’s OK. You had to be there.)

 

All right, you say, not hell but disaster,

Catastrophe here on earth.

Again, I tell you, a paranoid fantasizer

Centuries ago gave birth

To the notion that stars control our fate.

Dis-Aster. Bad-Star. I suspect

In reality, it was something they ate.

 

I’m missing the point, you scream.

There’s such a thing as bad results.

There’s such a thing as being too late.

And that is all that you — quite clearly and simply — mean.

And still, I maintain, we’re all living in a dream

Refusing the possibility to see

That the emperor has no sustainability

 

We’re not so powerless, after all,

AFTER ALL,

Any creatures who can uninvent hell and

Put the stars back in their places

Could — even just a few of them could —

Even just a couple of them should —

Even just your solitary voice would

Start us on a path to save this precious little ball.