Drifting Toward Utopia Poem by Doug Lane

We dream
of drifting toward utopia
in spite of ourselves,

of finding paradise
by dumb luck,
but it doesn't seem

likely, does it,
at the rate
we're destroying

the Earth
and with so many
of our best years

behind us.
Think of those moments
when the world

opened her arms
and briefly embraced you.
Are you now experiencing

more of those moments,
or fewer,
or none?

What are you drifting toward
besides oblivion?
So maybe dumb luck

isn't navigating as well
as you hoped.
Oh, you're adrift all right.

But what are you
drifting towards?
A consummation

devoutly to be wished
or a smash up
on the rocks?

Or are you
running aground
on the beach

to be demolished
wave by wave,
piece by piece,
over years,
over decades?