Though the sky is literally falling
And we can't blame Chicken Little
For the half century of wasted time
Where all we did was dither and diddle
I find comfort while I still have breath
Musing and creating at all hours of the day
Milking my inner cow in spads and spades
Looking for opportunities
Sun shining and I'm still making hay
All along the watchtower of life
Jokers and thieves have their parlay
There's but a fence between me and eternity
Between my lowly self and the buzzing highway
War is in the air, along with thousands of burning bushes
Pop stars and actors line up to blurt out dismay
As naval carriers and fighter jets hustle to the target
Elsewhere smoke jumpers and volunteer fighters congeal in battle array
Instead of throwing up our hands and invoking hell and a basket
Let's see how we can avoid another run of runaway caskets
From Tripoli, Libya to Anchorage, Alaska
I'll ask her sisters and bros to do more than thoughts and prayers
Invoking a deified master
I may be one liquid drop
In a world of oceans
And sometimes feel I'm going through the motions
But self-awareness and a keen eye on the world scene
Can only mean I'm ready for battle
An action machine
~ Gunnar Våken
