Egg Shells

My dimming eyes watch on as the world slowly waxes worse.
The egg shells we all tread upon are cracking,
giving way to reveal the rotting beast within.

Instead of caring for the corroding behemoth,
we poke our crooked sticks in it's eyes.
Just to see the ruthless ratings go up.

Civil unrest will soon transform into uncivil retaliation.
Peace will become as the giants that roamed the land in millennium's past.
Conflicts of the present day will melt down into war machines,
feeding on us without cause or prejudice.

What are we to do?
The lost souls desperately seeking clarity in this bitter cold sea.

For now though, I worry not about my own fate but instead of the destiny that awaits
the tiny eyes that so innocently stare back deeply into mine.

I collapse to my knees, kiss the ancient dirt,
then rise and turn to the sky.
Hurling prayers to the heavens in hopes that there is some supernatural deliverer in all of this crumbling chaos.

Secretly fearing though that in the end though, there might not.

Dam

Once a simple stream
misdirected and held back
with sandbags and driftwood
creating a stationary place of life

Time brings the rain
the fragile stream steadily grows
sand bags and driftwood give way
to bigger, stronger barricades

A river now replaces the tiny waterway
the dam begins to flex under the pressure
fissures and cracks start to form
as the riverbed slowly starts to erode away

The vicious rains never cease
and the river waxes ever so violent
churning and thrashing
testing the integrity of it's buckling captor

Will this dreadful downpour ever dissipate?
Will this raging, wrathful river ever find peace?
With all these inquiries, one stands above the rest
will the deteriorating, damaged dam hold it's place
or be breached by the wicked waves below?