Border Lines and Open Spaces

​The Blue Marble showed swirling mists

Twinkling states

No border lines,

No military fences were to be seen.

On the day of the end,

When we go up into the space

And the satellites report back images 

Of dust, rubble and destruction,

I’ll be waiting at the end of the rainbow,

Where the pot of gold has long been stolen,

But if you hurry, we can sit together

And look up at the last of the singing sky

Marveling at how perfectly incandescently happy

We all could have been.

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