We write

We write and we write across

the globe about everything and

anything that someone in a room

deems its worth writing about.

And in all that writing, that is profound

and trivial, detailed and cursory,

you would think that wisdom and

compassion should have grown,

as we explore new ideas, write many

reports and chronicle the progress of

civilisation. But to my eyes and ears

the evolution of being better beings

has not progressed, and, if anything,

it has regressed. The old divisions are

the new but on a larger global scale,

and we are less kind than we used to

be in my thoughts and memories. And

most of all, after so much writing, so

many reports, so many great speeches

written from the wings, we are least

kind to this planet and the species

that depend on the decisions that we make,

so, we write and we write and we will write

much more, but I say to what end? To what

day? Are we growers or are we slaves?