Bet on Black . . .

Bet on Black

the fields are empty

the flowers are gone

the children have stopped dancing

and dried tears

exhibited their former presence

with a crusted salt white trail

on the faces of many

love did not betray us

but we her

in the name of science

and our non compliance

of her rules

instead of giving

we took

to books and such

to come to know who we were

and she was

we ate poisoned foods

of worldly things

and our souls began to die

for we denied Truth

and her sisters

the waters in our wells of spirit

has dried

and left naught

but a legacy of dust

for we did not truest

in our gifts

and now that the shift has come about

our doubts

and our greatest fear

has been realized

it has been so long

since the sun embraced us

with it’s loving warmth

we too long took for grtanted

and delusionally thought we could do without him

and we had no need of it

yeah . . . we thought

and in our life’s gardens

the only seeds we planted

were of no effect

like GMOs

who knows

perhaps we did have the power

to create that which we desired

and we allowed that fire to die

i sit here now asking myself

in my best Earth, Wind and Fire tone

“where have all the flowers gone”

have we forsaken

the best of who we are

and with this simple asking

i awaken in a sweat

from this potential fruitless nightmare

and i declare

Lorde, “i ain’t done yet”

Bet on Black

© January 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.