there is a blight upon the earth, it bears a name,
it draws in air much better used by worthy men,
my namesake drains the sea, the manner is the same,
the food it wastes through use could feed a better ten,

earth's scarce resources it consumes, returns nothing,
though years have passed, remains a liability,
an asset to the world its hands have yet to bring,
a change in its demise no one can sure foresee,

as inert gas unnoticed seeping into cracks,
it poisons happy minds and smiling thoughts it kills,
then hisses into skies, so soiling white doves black,
when noticed men strike matches to it for the thrills,

there is a place for one who's nil before the world,
to lie beneath the feet of all, a rug unfurled

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos