Our Turn

Challenges without number
Rise as an ocean swell,
Force children from their slumber
Into a world they don’t know well.

Strangers in a strange land
Where moderation holds no sway,
Wanting for a knowing hand,
Find life’s journey a hapless way.

My generation, and those now past,
Succumbed to Mammon’s notion:
All will be well if we just hold fast,
Praying the Earth devoid of motion.

But the Earth has moved,
In obeisance to the Sun,
Its path a reprove,
To the belief that nothing ‘ere be done.

Do we assume too much
When we grieve for the next generation?
We are the ones fate will touch,
With naught to offer in exculpation.

Does it not seem right
That we should pay ?
For choking the sun, hiding the light,
Making night the owner of day?