To the Unbelievers

Spinning ball in the
Darkness of nowhere;
Earth: infinitesimal speck in
A middle of all we
Don't know, you are

Stressed and begging,
Living, carrying all
The breathing and
Sighing, changing
And hurting
Systems, but

We just don't
Speak the same
Language, I fear;
We haven't listened
Carefully enough,
Have we?

Have mercy, you sad,
Wretched humans,
You who think money
Is an answer,
Do you not understand
That you have enough?

Do you not realize
The crying you refuse to hear
Is your own progeny,
The unborn children of
Your unborn children?

You've no ken, I guess
No appetite or imagination for
The gold of unknown mysteries
That swirl and uptake, that
Segue into the shimmering
And dark velvet great beyonds,
Where in spite of all your
Powers and all your
Machinations,
You, too, will,
You will arrive
To face a mighty everlasting.