Global warming has long-since licked the heels and calves of those in denial. Bent and curled at the knees, they float, drift, circle and die. Blinded by water and light, greed and madness, they float in their demise.
Each sliver of broken water produces a drowning liar. The Swift Boat Syndrome. Now loud voices with fewer friends. If the message is so clear that it's broken loose, threatening to engulf the main castle, let the winds blow, corn and vegetable grow, and plug the holes in the earth and water.
The sun can't be allowed to die on our watch, but stand on our awaiting rooftops, feeding the fields and sustaining the outdoors while cradling the indoors in loving warmth, coolness, food and warm water. One can almost sense the religion in what is meant of it, that blinding spot in the sky.
But now it melts those stone mountains faster than we can drink from them, bathe in them, cook with them. They're not meant to leave...not this fast. And neither are we. Or are we, if the ones with culprit ears and eyes are bound to be deaf? How many images and voices will it take?
And if it has, let's call upon their children. Would they have anything to say?