Steming The Unsustainable Population Growth
In the quiet rooms where maps are breathed upon,
where borders are inked like veins across the Earth,
we speak in numbers—
not of souls, but of strain,
of harvests thinning under a swollen sky.
The arithmetic is cold,
yet it does not lie—
too many hands upon too little soil,
too many hungers circling the same fire.
Stemming what cannot be sustained,
not with the violence of sudden decree,
but with the measured hand of foresight—
a discipline of future over present desire.
For what is mercy,
if it feeds the moment
and starves the century?
The child yet unborn
flies buzzing around their crusty eyes
stands beside us in silence,
asking not for abundance,
but for balance—
for rivers that still run,
for air that has not forgotten breath.
Power must think beyond its own shadow,
must see the curve of consequence
before it bends into collapse.
This is no easy doctrine—
to weigh life against life,
to choose restraint
in a world that worships increase.
Yet history will not pardon blindness.
It will record, without trembling,
whether we governed the tide—
or were taken by it.
Bringing babies into the world just to watch them starve.
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