Poem: I Worry for Our Future

I spend my days
Heeding the sirens of my society,
Wailing as they consume my mind with thoughts of our decline;
Of decadence instead of rise,
A charmed despondence hanging in the air,
So nearly thick that you can touch,
Yet fleeting as the fog
That now so threatens to corrode what simple progress we have bought.
And all the while, I think:
Will we be able to avert our gaze much longer,
Or will we stop to wander in the light for long enough to find
A real and final, wise solution to our plight?

I worry for our future.