I woke to feel no breath, as if at birth,
so I could hear the breath of mother earth,
as she heaves with sighs of lives foregone,
telling us we need to change our song,
review the wiles of new invented ways,
trying to persuade us of the days
that technological device has won.
Ignore the words, at peril, of those who’ve gone.
If you reinvent the wheel each day,
inure yourself to change, you will betray
the days when unencumbered views were so
much clearer, simpler, more humane than now.
The lessons of the past have brought us here
so, whilst the need for redesign is clear,
let’s not allow the ego arrogant
beguile us with its autocratic cant.
© 2011 John Anstie
(View the author’s commentary on this poem)