Tiny Fingers Have Found The Button

How often is it
That we are afforded in a speciel lifetime
The opportunity to time travel
Had you asked me a year ago
I would have cited years of push
In a single direction
That we backslide on occasion
But the progress always rises top-wise

It is only now
That I see it
I see the loop
We are about to take
A loop so broad our history
Has no document
The record is held in a geologic context
That of self-induced nuclear cataclysm
This is how it happens
And as it’s been said it won’t be the bang
But it won’t be a whimper either
It will be in months and years
Centuries
Of wailing

Until the tears wipe clean
And the thyroids stop bubbling
And they find footing
On fresh-cooled slag
It will be in the forgetting
That they emerge
To loop us again
And again
Again
To maintain the constancy
Of sentient folly

We are not the first

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About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook: facebook.com/MolyTov
This entry was posted in Poetry, Written, Written Work and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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