Running Ahead

It’s called the instant era

Instant info, instant communication

Instant help, instant transportation

Everything has evolved.

Nothing’s left unsolved.

Displays replace paper and plastic replaces wood, Sitting replaces walking, does this sound good?

A toy truck is a useless vintage toy, Not accepted by any modern‐day boy.

But why would you want that in your grip, When you can have the world at your fingertip?

Travel is usually done past the speed of sound

And a foot very rarely touches barren ground. New medication is holding strong

And people are living very long.

Pills replace vegetables and computers replace schools, Audio replaces books and lakes lose to pools. Yet technology just keeps running ahead

As entrepreneurs replace the dead.

This rapid advance could be negative. Some will defend, But there’s no way to stop it, we’ll find out in the end

Cavanagh

Silence

The silence is strange.

Neither heartless, nor caring, Neither cautious, nor bold, Neither cheerful, nor melancholy, Neither warm, nor cold.

It has meaning to some, To others it is empty, Hollow and bare, Yet somehow it tempts me.

The sound of death, Or the cry of life?

The hum of ease, Or the scream of strife?

The song of the earth, The anthem of its people,

The consequence of chaos, To me it is peaceful. Look around the world, At people in different places, Though they are unique, I see the same resigned look on their faces.

They hate the silence, It echoes fear, It screams to them, The end is near. Our World It is our world that is gone, Our land that had perished, Our earth that is dying, Our earth that we cherished.

Our fight that is over, All the fighters have passed, They all died together, In a nuclear blast.

The fighters were family, They were neighbors and friends, They were brothers and sisters, They fought till the end.

Why were we fighting?

Why so much destruction? Is our world obliterated? Or is it under construction?

Will we wake up one morning, And find it the same? As it was in the past, With no one to blame?

I wish this could happen, I wish it were true, But we must blame somebody, We must blame me and you.

A Dead World Desolate silence, On edge, austere.

I wait in the silence, I listen to fear.

The world is darkness, It is empty despair,

Dying in agony, For no one truly cares.

I breathe the thin air, Fake a weak smile, I know that the world, Will be gone for a while.

Grade 8 | The York School

Zeenia Aga