sense

Had we but known
that the end isn't nigh, 
we'd face the aftermath,
we'd live to die, 
might heaven be
the design of our hand, 
a vision we'd realized,
a future we'd planned?
Watch the world reaping the
seeds we have sown.
rich would its harvest be,
had we but known.

Could we but hear
how the silence resounds  
when ichor arises and
seeps through the ground,
would we take heed
of our charges, our own, 
abating destruction,
dividing our throne? 
See all the refugees
fleeing in fear.  
They might go home again, 
could we but hear. 

Could we but see
all the ruins and wrecks
now slumping their shoulders,
breaking their necks,
would we refurbish
and shore up their mettle,
lighten the heaviness
letting them settle?
Ravenous, homeless ones
living asea
might be made whole again
could we but see.

Should you yet doubt
in human potential
or look on our goodness
as inconsequential, 
watch what we achieve
when we see, hear and know,
when we speak our minds,
adapt, learn and grow, 
stretch toward the cosmos, 
grasp what we're about. 
Turn, look behind us now,
should you yet doubt.