I tether my breath to time's unravel,
buy a donkey, name him Truth.
He carries me where oil once did,
hooves carving futures into soft grass.
No black smoke veils my gaze,
no machine howls, demanding war's feast.
I listen...ears, not engines...
the silence a command to remember.
The donkey, wise beyond all measure,
whispers, “Your Earth was never broken.
It is you who cracked and bled.”
I laugh, dark and hollow, unsure if playful.
Stop the bloodshed, caress what still breathes.
The donkey leads; I follow,
away from the edge of forgetting.
The past is forward. I begin to listen.