Poetry – Profits Made

Profits Made

The winds came most horribly

Striking the sun-baked soil

Like a flail.

It set the dried brush burning fiercely.

                Every creature

                                As parched and scorched

                                                As the ground

                                                                They died upon.

The rains never came.

                Rivers dried.

                                Seas warmed.  

                                                Coral bleached.

Desert sands

                No longer crept

                                They rushed.

                                                Ice melted.

                                                                Seas rose.

                                                                                Cities flooded.

People fled.

Torrid air

                Scalded skin

                                Smoke still poured

                                                Profits were made.

Opher -4.4.2021

All the major problems facing us are easily solved. Whether it is war, poverty, coronavirus, overpopulation or global warming. There is a simple solution. We already know the answers.

What holds us back is greed, selfishness and the lust for power and wealth.

What is required is a global perspective, greater equality and cooperation.

Easy.

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