By Eugene Hyon
The world goes a spinning in whirlwinds
While angels from the heavens shout their clarion calls to us
Useless are their warnings that shatter upon stone-dead senses
Mortal are humans that stare out into nothingness
With hands extended, helpless, in the suffocating smog
Mouths paralyzed, unable to utter a sound for help
No air anywhere to gulp
Yes, the world goes a spinning in whirlwinds
While the winds reach sonic speed and catch fire
Useless are attempts to shield tender cheeks from sonic windburn
Mortal are humans whose faces have been blasted away by debris
With hands now trying to cover their ears from layers of fine dust
Mouths so dry and their tongues mummified
No water anywhere to gulp
Oh dear! The world goes a spinning in whirlwinds
While the heat of the sun mercilessly withers crops and desiccates livestock
Useless are attempts to seek shelter in huts that radiate like ovens
Mortal are humans who act in frenzied desperation and face mass starvation
With feet forced to migrate to distant places no longer bound by national borders
Or bound by nation-states that descend into chaos and disintegration
In the search for tolerable life?
Where? Where would that be!
Dear Lord! The world goes a spinning in whirlwinds
As the angels continue their clarion calls to us
Is it still useless to try to stop uncontrolled consumption and environmental pollution?
Are humans so mortal that lust, avarice and greed are inescapable?
With what hands remain, can wrongs be unwritten?
And will mouths impart with the right speech the lessons needed to be learned?
Without fathoming such questions, the human spirit evaporates into a fathomless void
And so, the world goes a spinning in whirlwinds
Regardless of our imminent extinction, sooner than one may think
The whirlwinds shall wipe the Earth clean
To create anew
July 21, 2021
New York, New York