"Barely Enough to Hang On"
They are like figures held in some glass ball,
One of those in which, when shaken, snow storms occur
Where the storm starts out violent, brutal even
But settle into gentle flakes swirling about
They are like bugs under the lampshade
Traveling elliptically around, and getting closer
Until a collision occurs and they are flung to the outer rim
Only to begin their route again
They are like ants on the hill, threatened by a trodding boot
Their light obscured by an oblong rectangle for mere seconds
Then their home, family, all destroyed
They reform and then rebuild
They are like the world, revolving slowly on
Decisions leading destruction without a thought
Lives are torn and left leaking in the dust
But we move on and live forward
And were it all to stop, disappear even
The twirling of the snow
The burning of the lamp
The presence of a boot
Would fear not exist, would innovation live on?
Would we be better for it?
If the decisions were not made
The destruction book slammed shut
Where would that leave our broken down, bleeding world?