when

 


when the temples
of profit
fall

when the speed of
our mercies
out race
bullets

when the fields
are covered
w/ wheat
and not
landmines

the earth will open her
throat and sing the
sweetest song
this old
universe
has ever
heard

and the astra will
look down,
smile, and
whisper...

amen


(c) 2018 R.R Zinn