On the Hunt
Museum of Vietnamese History
Courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Writing for the future
Supposing it awaits
Despite oncoming danger
What once were called the Fates

We are so powerful
With self-destructive weapons
Too feeble to control
The muscle under summons

Too meager morally
With limited command
Of moral sanity
That we don’t understand

Because we once were tiny
Played with only some
Treasure, territory
Comparative a crumb

But now our clever people
Build the weapons of
Comprehensive evil
Global in the glove

Once we held a spear
Perhaps a knife or ax
Now there will appear
A monster in our tracks

That follows where we go
But ends where we don’t know