Driftwood

At a narrow stream pulsing between two vast lakes
I know, I should stay in more!

On today’s outback walk,
unknowingly trending, a bit of
charcoaled wood drifts aimlessly
at the threshold of oblivion, pushed
and pulled, at the whim of alien
forces.

For, though educated
as to why, when, and wherewithal,
we too, are heading towards no fixed abode,
fast becoming burnt-out embers,
plebs drifting aimlessly, passively watching
sand falling through Tempus fugit’s
irreversible hourglass.

Verily,
while we just drift, the lobbyists,
the dictator States, the totalitarian
Master race, rush to industrially
invest in mining the resources
of our long-dead moon!

 
Goth:2022