• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 11

A reckoning

Dear untrustworthy politician,
(as if there is any other kind),
Yes, you, with your signet ring
and embossed gold band.
You who have always believed
that if it cannot be grown,
it must be mined,
and if it cannot be owned,
it must be colonized.

I see you toying with
the only planet we all call home,
thinking you can pull it back
from the brink of annihilation.
But in your shriveled heart,
I think you know the truth.
You have pushed your avarice so far
that well before the sun burns itself out,
future generations might well not survive.

And so, with your uncanny ability
to make the problem you created
a shared burden for all mankind,
you eye the moon as a future colony.
You hold children’s lives
in the palm of your hand,
as you speechify ad nauseam
about the glories of space travel


A reckoning

but in truth, the children are pawns.
In your game of untrammeled greed,
they are collateral damage.
You have played this game for centuries,
and each time you emerge wealthier
but you dig us all in even deeper.
You think you can distract the inheritors
with geegaws and gadgets,
and tell them you are equipping them
for their own brilliant futures.

But they are not fools, these innocents.
They see the universal picture
far better than you ever will.
If they colonize the moon,
maybe the lunar features will be your legacy.
The craters can immortalize
the depth of your ignorance,
and the different lunar seas,
the oceanic expanse of your greed.