Rollover 

 

Yesterday it rolled over,

The odometer of time.

We came full circle,

Without rhythm or rhyme.

 

The world came together,

And shared the day,

From sunrise to sunset,

As the sun wound its way. 

 

Round this fragile planet,

With its six billion strong,

Four billion still poor,

And 15 million in camps so long.

 

One man earns more,

Than the lowest forty percent

And the world economy,

Seems heaven sent.

 

It seems unlikely,

That heaven's gate will open wide,

And unlikelier still,

That poverty will be swept aside. 

 

But if we can just contain,

Our pride and our greed.

We just might do it,

We just might succeed.

 

Until the greatest problem of all,

Catches us in time,

How will we fix the odometer,

In 9999?

 

Copyright 2000 © Ronald W. Hull

 

1/1/1900



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