The Next Page

With a low consideration
of our collective actions
we work the world and hide
from those three dark days
that follow every thinning moon.

The leaf's imperative to fall
does not reveal the certain root.
Instead, we call upon the augury
of failed faith and the endless
ever busy gathering of ancient
apocalyptic signs.

We wish our children more
and in that we are a crow, calling
our dark desires, flying above
the choking smoke of
our frantic fires of  creation.

When the page turns, I wish
it to be blank, not filled with me,
but full of mystery that they
can write from the root.

Mark Clement's Questions:

1.  Is it too preachy or pedantic?

2.  Does it give the impression of being contrived?

3.  Is it too obscure?