Perpetual Motion

Those who follow us, slimy and simple,
Won't bother to ask how the world got
To be so hot, so dry, so nearly unbearable.
They will get by, leaching whatever they
Can from the sizzling sidewalks, the trash-
Covered seas (and each other, of course),
And, in time, as the planet grows cooler
Again, and that inexplicable march toward
Complexity begins, as it always has in
The past, a line of brighter, more capable
Creatures may rise, and, not knowing what
We have done, they'll repeat it, and they,
Too will die.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 48 times
Written on 2021-09-03 at 02:26

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