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Here we are in a brand new year;
Has anything changed? Nothing, I fear.
The elevator continues to sink
Through sub-cells and cellars with mephitic stink,
Into depths we never imagined existed
In a free fall we (up to this point) resisted.
It'll be a long, hard climb up the stair
To get back to the surface and breathable air.
Meanwhile, as always, most people flit
About pretend meadows, or cross-legged sit
As they endlessly daydream undisturbed,
Unblinking and utterly unperturbed,
Unaware they're engaged in mass suicide
By denying the truth of the downrushing slide.
The moment will come when the peril's more evident,
But by then they'll be swathed in the earthen element.