RUSHING TOWARD THE EDGE It isn’t what you think It isn’t a phase Or a fluke The train has left for Jordan, and We are not on board Our world is spinning out of control There isn’t a brass ring to catch No glass to break No ready fix We are drunks on a bender Gaia has taken her children and left for parts unknown The sacred mountains, scarred and abandoned The bodhi trees, striped of fruit and leafless The turtles aren’t holding up their end We let the wheels fall off
