Are We There Yet?


Four Horsemen of Apocalypse, by Viktor Vasnets...
Four Horsemen of Apocalypse, by Viktor Vasnetsov. Painted in 1887. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Are We There Yet?

 

I often heard my children ask, “Are we there yet?”

 

On a trip we had just begun,

 

That was their way of saying,

 

They weren’t having any fun.

 

 

 

When I consider we’re all kids,

 

Traveling the same kind of road,

 

“Are we there yet?” means to me,

 

Someone is tired of his load.

 

 

 

We live in a smug cruel world,

 

Where we claim everything is under control,

 

But it’s time we search our hearts and ask,

 

Have we really reached our goals?

 

 

 

We haven’t found the ways to peace,

 

Though we tried with flowers in our hair,

 

Even SGT. Pepper could not stop the wars,

 

Even though we tried to care.

 

 

 

A white horse appeared on a cloud,

 

Its rider clutched a bow,

 

Representing conquest and a destructive force,

 

Sending peace reeling with a mighty blow.

 

 

 

Famine spreads across the land,

 

While food supplies dwindle down,

 

Animals and people fight to live,

 

But little grows on bloody parched ground.

 

 

 

A black horse stepping high,

 

With weighing scales at his side,

 

Famine strikes fear in all hearts,

 

While hope disappears worldwide.

 

 

 

A fiery horse gallops with color aglow,

 

Mass slaughter is his game,

 

His rider lets persecution and pain go free,

 

War is still the one to blame.

 

 

 

Pestilence still sweeps the world,

 

While we turn our heads in vain,

 

Trying to ignore terrible diseases,

 

That keep third world children in pain.

 

 

 

Death still stalks each of us,

 

We won’t leave this world alive,

 

But couldn’t we try to slow death down,

 

Allowing us a few more years to thrive.

 

 

 

Astride a pale horse with sunken eyes,

 

The Grim Reaper wears a grin,

 

He scans the earth looking for those,

 

Who have already died within.

 

 

 

Are we there yet?

 

It’s a question we should ask,

 

Have we done all we can possibly do,

 

Before we give up our chosen task?

 

 

 

The Four Horsemen continue to ride,

 

Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death,

 

With sword and gun they sweep the land,

 

And steal each feeble breath.

 

 

 

Are we there yet?

 

The question echoes on,

 

We can’t stop to boast or reset,

 

Until the battles are won.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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