The Blackbird’s Song
The blackbird sings its last song.
A song of intangible grief
As far as human understanding goes.
But there is something there
That strikes me hard;
Steel through my chest, as if some sort of misguided wake-up call
The untimely whirlwinds of chaos
Make their way
From east to west
In a never-ending path of destruction.
Someone is trying to tell us something
We are too stubborn to understand
I try to make a difference, I honestly do
But what can one lone boy do
Against the might of entire nations, bonding together
In false friendship?
I see the waves crashing against the rocky cliff-face and wonder:
Will this be the last of peace?
Will mankind’s overpowering urge to conquer
Take our planet away from us?
It is our planet, and we have the right to stand up
But what good has that ever done?
We scorn Greenpeace
Calling them no-good rabble-rousers.
But they have the right idea
If not the right execution.
It will not be a nuclear war that kills us
It will not be a Martian invasion
It will be our stupidity.
Our very own Goddamned stupidity.
Today, the trees outside my window are green.
Will they be brown?
Or will they not exist?
It is a question
It has an answer
It is up to you to find that answer.
Many will tell you to rise up
To be a hero
To save the world.
No, not me. I know what you will and will not do.
You will not rise up
You are no hero
You will not save the world.
Sometimes I look around and wonder
What kind of Gods would let a world strangle itself to death?
And then I look around again and realise
God left this place a long time ago.
But there is still hope.
There is always hope.
Man is a social beast
For once, mankind, pardon me
– womankind, too –,
Must use its horrible skills, the very skills that brought about this
To solve it. I will dream of that day.
For it will come.
Maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, maybe the next lifetime.
But it will come.