The order of things

So this is the future...
a lashing wind that blows hard
enough to rip plants out of the ground
and leave them dangling
to the lines that had held them secure
the ties transformed in nooses,
little dead tomatoes wither

the rains, too light, carried on the winds
loosen the soil, making roots
meaningless
rotting saplings slowly yellow
in the crater where they once
stood firm

even the sky, once all blue
now cloven, like hoof
part grey and menacing
part azure, offering escape
but no escape is available
not from the mess we've made
and too little too late
is cold comfort
when there's nothing on your plate

my friends, there is no friend
for a friend would have stopped
upon realizing the damage being done
no friend and not friendly
the response is coming
and on this evil wind
comes the messenger
warning of the fall,
of the end of it all

not just here, no. everywhere
from desert to mountain
and sea to shining sea,
from rounded hilltops
to rolling stream and forest
once green, see it now
I have only tears that ask how

the future we have conjured up
the smoke that will choke us
the water we will thirst for
once it is gone, wasted to clean
the profits we say we need
more than this world

So this is the future...
based on our desires and
ruined by our greed
that poison seed, we planted
to gain the sky we have polluted
to make the pie, we are so deluded

Shall no grain remain, not a kernel
no fruit to offer in love,
no refreshing breezes, no shading leaves?
Even if we stopped, fully committed
to saving what little remains,
our past endeavours, prevent us
from freeing this world from our chains.