Answers to Where Will They Pass?

Answers to Where Will They Pass?


What if the skies fold their arms,
And nature says, No more flights here —
Where will our planes pass?
They will crash into the pride of man,
And rust in the graveyard of forgotten dreams.

What if the roads we boast of
Melt into a muddy soup,
And tyres sink like stones in clay —
Where will the cars pass?
They will rot on their wheels,
While the dust laughs at their silence.

What if the rivers we traced on maps
Are swallowed into the earth’s own belly,
And the ships we carved like kings
Find no throne of water?
Where will they pass?
They will sit in dry harbours,
Like caged giants with no song to sing.

Shall we return to the olden ways,
Harnessing horses, barefoot in the dust?
But if the paths themselves close their lips,
Where will they pass?
They will stumble in circles,
As the earth reclaims her patience.

And if God, with one holy breath,
Discards our wires, our wheels, our wings,
If He turns His face from our artificial being —
Where will our creations pass?
They will pass into nothingness,
Back into the silence from which they came.

And where will we pass?
Into the truth we feared to admit —
That without His grace,
We have nowhere to go.


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