The World Upon Our Shoulders Poem by Gerry Legister

The stifled old air lies uplifted now in the deep,
It might change again with fresh morning dew,
Hurling sweaty sleep fallen upon those asleep,
Humidity lies curled toes in sheets old and new.

Fading careers pointing to the ploughed time rush,
Of our sphere exploring everything worthy to own,
In the matrix world, we work from dawn to dusk,
Then diverged at the end of a day to a divided home.

In shorter arches and ache we try to make the curve,
Forgetting the bitter ramblings and insults hurled.
If we who have visions can incite the virtues of love,
Better might our dreams reveal the known world?

Although emotions may fall apart, rip from its mark,
Because those we trust look near but went too far,
With that missile, policies ready to strike the weak,
Those fiery tongues ruin our chances to obtain favor.

Our citizen spirit cringes on the hot button of stone,
The mysterious future of things we do not know yet,
The obstacles that checked our world are not shown,
But further down the road, we become prime target.

The temporal in this world is fitted to the sphere,
Every moment of danger here, we have been its mark,
The ultimate aim everywhere media acquiring the air,
Of propaganda, choices to dwell in most restless talk.

Never get away till we lose our breath from this place,
Tossing voices of scare, we suffer by them each day,
The pain with our joy affixed only in measured pace,
When the world upon our shoulders sometimes sway.