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
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
To maintain the constancy
Of sentient folly

We are not the first


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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