
Our earth will be fine:
from dead trees leaves sprout anew;
humanity won’t.

Our earth will be fine:
from dead trees leaves sprout anew;
humanity won’t.

Across the water
smugly the city awaits,
for us to sail home.

Just look hard enough
life gives us all comedy
even on the street.

Lighting up the sky,
optimists’ beacon of hope—
casino city.

When the sunlight hits,
sudden exposure blinds you—
darkness becomes clear.