Geopolitical And Social Collapse On It's Way Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Busy hands, a clever mind,
Building, making, all mankind.
But a whisper, soft and low,
'Where will all this progress go? '

Digging deep, with mighty might,
Pulling treasures from the night.
Earth's old breath, a smoky haze,
Changing nights and shortening days.

Sunbeams dance, a fiery art,
Life's bright spark within our heart.
Yet we blind ourselves to gleam,
Lost within a harmful dream.

More mouths to feed, the numbers climb,
Fields grow bare before their time.
Water scarce, a precious sip,
Anger stirs upon each lip.

Fights erupt, and battle cries,
Reflected in our worried eyes.
From ancient times, a truth we find,
Our greatest danger is our kind.