Yesterday, 05:33 AM
Once Enemies
Today the Knight of Doleful Countenance
would not assault our giants in the sky–
those monstrous dandelions whose white arms
of balsa-wood moan deeply as they turn
and often break away, or crash and burn.
He of La Mancha, rather, would respect
today’s gaunt windmills’ dated loyalty -
like his to tarnished codes of chivalry -
in still contending with the giant Warming
whose fraudulence collapsed and blew away.
I picture him and bony Rosinante
posed with a giant pinwheel, skeletal,
whose day, like theirs, is done while what remains
recalls old loves, arms bravely raised, campaigns
which, long betrayed, still honor lost ideals.
They try so hard one’s soul must sympathize
with wasted effort, industry, good heart
expended in their quest to save a world
which doesn’t need their rescue, or their part:
pawns moved by folly, tragic from the start.
Today the Knight of Doleful Countenance
would not assault our giants in the sky–
those monstrous dandelions whose white arms
of balsa-wood moan deeply as they turn
and often break away, or crash and burn.
He of La Mancha, rather, would respect
today’s gaunt windmills’ dated loyalty -
like his to tarnished codes of chivalry -
in still contending with the giant Warming
whose fraudulence collapsed and blew away.
I picture him and bony Rosinante
posed with a giant pinwheel, skeletal,
whose day, like theirs, is done while what remains
recalls old loves, arms bravely raised, campaigns
which, long betrayed, still honor lost ideals.
They try so hard one’s soul must sympathize
with wasted effort, industry, good heart
expended in their quest to save a world
which doesn’t need their rescue, or their part:
pawns moved by folly, tragic from the start.
Non-practicing atheist