Why
When we were children,
Were we given
A pile of wooden blocks,
To help us count
Add up, take away,
Spell our name and scream it out,
To build and balance
As tall as possible a tower.
And when it fell over,
Rebuild and rebalance.
But so many of us just
Threw the blocks at each other
And cried when one hit us
In the eye
So-
When we were given the oceans and sky,
It wasn't long before we had
Ruined more than we had learned-
A continent of gnarled, congealed plastic
Floating in our graying heaven's reflection.
And given the forests,
We build either twelve-room-summer homes or else
So many billion disposable chopsticks.
We grew up unlearning and grow old crying while
Our children ask us
Why? Why? Why?
Were you so selfish for so long?
Because
Children, blocks,
don't come with instructions.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 3:29 AM UTC
Why
When we were children,
Were we given
A pile of wooden blocks,
To help us count
Add up, take away,
Spell our name and scream it out,
To build and balance
As tall as possible a tower.
And when it fell over,
Rebuild and rebalance.
But so many of us just
Threw the blocks at each other
And cried when one hit us
In the eye
So-
When we were given the oceans and sky,
It wasn't long before we had
Ruined more than we had learned-
A continent of gnarled, congealed plastic
Floating in our graying heaven's reflection.
And given the forests,
We build either twelve-room-summer homes or else
So many billion disposable chopsticks.
We grew up unlearning and grow old crying while
Our children ask us
Why? Why? Why?
Were you so selfish for so long?
Because
Children, blocks,
don't come with instructions.
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