Knell from Knell by Simon L. Eckman

There are billions
Upon billions
Not just humans
Not just humans
A few make the choices for those yet unborn and the voiceless

All just weeds to them
All just pests to them
And poison is all in supply
For what’s not productive
For what’s not useful
Can be sacrificed

The bells are ringing
Ringing for everything
In the silence of the birds:
A swan song
In the silence of the insects:
A cacophony

And even if we do
Everything that’s needed
It’s still too late
It’s always been too late
The truth, hidden
Too late, they knew

And we’re following madmen
Slaves to a machine
That has grown over large
Crushed by its own weight
We pull it forward in chains
To the edge of a precipice

Leaving garbage in its wake
More than could ever be disposed
Leaving behind decayed cities
Desolate wastelands
Concrete tombs and mausoleums
The entire earth a grave marker

They’re building a prison
around us all
Some just see the wall
Some see the fires
Some see waters rising
Some see the precipice
Some lost in their madness and despair

We’re following murderers
Innocents bearing
The brunt of the suffering
The blood of martyrs
Power their machines
Give their money worth

Drunk on power
Glut on currency
It must be said:
Death is what they deserve
It must be asked:
Will they pay for all the horror?

All just weeds to them
Billions upon billions
All just pests to them
Billions upon billions upon billions
Going over the edge now
Unless we turn upon them

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