I imagine turning the Doomsday Clock's hands
back to 10 am.
Mid morning promises infinite possibilities,
here, children's laughter and play trumpets,
with grit and gusto they seize the day.

Generation Alpha circle all the boxes, wary
yet aware previous insatiable generations
tore them open
devouring earth's flower.
If Greek myth be true, hope remains
in Pandora's box.
Poxes, climate change and nuclear mad men are here,
but so is time.

Alpha children free hope.
Seize the night.





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Nice poem .

NICE

It's good to see you sharing here again, Ladywind.