As we are so sick,
the only cure for our disease
is the willingness to offer,
as side effect,
a death, by remedy.

We own no choice.
No chancy roll of dice.
No last moment reprieve.
No denying-out-of-existence,
the inevitable.

Our only way out,
the sacrifice of the life
to which we’ve grown so
accustomed.

This, the only medicine
we can swallow for our progeny:

Cease our profligate squandering
of shrinking resources,
our stealing, today,
from tomorrows sources,
from the oceans,
from the air,
from other species with whom
we share
their world.

All this must end –
or we do.

There is nothing else.

Assassinate our habit of luxury
or there is but one surety:

just ahead,

the end.