Two lights meet.
“Hey! I thought this was the end.”
“So did I.”
Towering above the rest,
Stubborn weed holds fast.
They lay like dinosaur bones of old, just another layer of strata on an ancient planet, slowly being enveloped in green and brown. Someday they might be fuel for a future species, but that won’t occur until they have been forgotten for millions of years.
Sadly, they were close to the pinnacle when it happened. In the previous two centuries famine and disease had withered into a distant memory, and eons of genetic adaptation lay dormant under warm roofs with running refrigerators. In what was a blink in geologic time, they had connected the globe and planted flags on the moon. Shining eyes had stared out outward thinking maybe, just maybe, they could actually colonize another planet.
But greed and ego hacked away at the pinnacle until this great civilization could no longer stand. They were warned, but with a spewing of hot air and angry waving of hands, a shout went up like a great industrial cloud of smog, blotting the sun, drowning out the warning, and smothering the populace until finally, with one small voice, they said, “We were wrong.”
But it was too late.
With the energy of an avalanche that would not be stopped, ancient cycles gained momentum until storm upon storm battered coastlines and mountains and the houses with warm roofs and running refrigerators. Sea levels crept up, pushing an already crowded world closer and closer together. Disrupted supply chains broke down down the doors for disease and famine to come rushing back like a torrent. The rewind button had been pushed, and like the video tape of old, it squeaked and rattled back through time and human advancement until only small clusters of people remained, gasping, relearning how to exist on this new earth, until even they could exist no more.
The storms continued. They were not dependent on the machinations of man. Refrigerators rusted, roofs blew in, and walls collapsed as the next iteration began.
We stand at the pane,
Me looking out,
You looking in.
It all seems so clear,
Yet here we remain,
In all of our clarity.
Our hands reach up
And touch without touching
Through crystal clear glass,
And while they may leave a mark,
We don’t feel the warmth of skin upon skin.
Discover ©SK's 🆆🅴🅴🅺🅻🆈 🅵🅻🅰🆂🅷 🆂🅰🅻🅴🆂 on our Site | We offer unique graphics and artwork designs on T-shirts, Apparel, Mugs, Bags, Posters & Prints and much more gifts for Whole the family, our T-shirts are available in a huge variety of styles, sizes, colors and designs for all kinds of occasions.
Enjoy the Journey!
poetry, thoughts, quotations
To participate in the Ragtag Daily Prompt, create a Pingback to your post, or copy and paste the link to your post into the comments. And while you’re there, why not check out some of the other posts too!
Random musings on life, society, and politics.
Mainly through the lens of a Nikon