One day we go to the bathroom
and fifty years later we tell horror
stories of how the tank malfunctioned
and flooded the entire house.
Today, "God restoreth my soul,"
while on countless earlier days
children of the steppes and plains
were run over by marauders.
Our stampeding and pillaging
is more subtle now: a morning
paper and the news that capture
tales of destruction and woe.
We pour the blood of our neighbor
out like water, drinking other's pain
to satisfy our need for delight
in the present moment.
I grimace when someone calls
for humans to evolve into being
more human. Do they not know
we would no longer be human?
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