Before the Climax

the endless ugly summer drags on
like a cheap dystopian screenplay,
too little smoke to be dramatic,
too much for comfort.

fire devours the Earth’s flesh
as the heat I once welcomed
in my youth
pushes me ever closer
to Canada, hell, or death.

an uncontrollable virus takes
the feeble, and the rebels without
cause, burying both theist
and atheist alike,
side by side for all to see.

we hide within our shells,
no communion,
or community,

only disembodied egos
on inanimate screens
seeking the fake light
of our own invention,
illuminating our ignorance
and greed.

the repetitious red sun sets
again, only to rise hotter
in the morning,
biblical in proportion
to anything I’ve ever witnessed
in my insignificant lifetime.

an awkward emptiness
swallows almost everything
we once held close, breaking
preconceived perceptions
that used to bring us hope.

we find ourselves gripping
onto something slippery,
near impossible to grasp,
while time waits for nothing
to complete its charted course
toward its infinite release.

and here we are,
waiting, worrying, wondering,
our measly lives so miserable
mere moments before the climax
leading to the inevitable,
unharnessed good.

Author: Dan Steven Erickson

Dan Steven Erickson is a great undiscovered American songwriter.