November 13th Farewel? Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

A number spun, a story told,
From nineteen-sixty, brave and bold.
Von Forster's thought, a math so neat,
On growing numbers, on every street.

He saw a peak, a time to fear,
November's day, so drawing near.
Not fire and brimstone, crash and fall,
But hunger's grip, affecting all.

The Earth, he said, would have its fill,
Of taking all, and standing still.
Resources thin, the air grown gray,
A troubled world, in disarray.

Now years have passed, the date arrives,
And still we live, and still we strive.
The world still turns, the oceans sigh,
Beneath a vast and watching sky.

No sudden doom, no final bell,
But whispers of the stories well.
Of planet's plea, of futures bright,
If we can learn, and choose the light.

From distant shores, where oceans gleam,
To cities waking from a dream,
America's heart, Los Angeles' sun,
The work for Earth has just begun.

The warning's echo, soft and low,
Reminds us how we need to grow.
Not just in numbers, but in care,
To share this home, beyond compare.