Only very recently
we understood how curvatures
in ninth dimension’s tensor calculus
affected undulations in the solar flares;
and how the integrated resonance in super-cubes
and muon melodies can interact
with neuron reciprocity and with injected truth,
to send this back in time before it is too late
I want to ask you of the water
of rain and scorching heat
of petrichor and hummingbirds
of thaw in spring and autumn hues;
of meadows that you haven’t covered yet
with race-track tarmac,
bomb-proofed castles and the prison camps
you maybe haven’t thought of yet
You know my friends; your air is sweet
not yet deprived of oxygen,
we had to learn to save our breath,
for Wednesday every second week
when we can be awake.
Our forests died for paper-mills
we had to capture molecules from solar-wind
and through the process-plants and pipes
we’re fed through tubes the single dose;
for Wednesday thoughts and fantasies;
but now we’re smothered by the sun.
The bramble that you’re burn
is potentially the air we are deprived,
But yet you dream in symphonies
of chainsaw forestry and the paper-mills;
for books you never read.
Before it is too late
remember that you still can breathe
a Tuesday night.
Today at dVerse Grace wants us to simply imagine how weird the future could be. Be inspired by Ben Burke’s “A poem from the future” and write it in the form of a letter describing how terrible it could be, how good. Myself I added some inspiration from Aniara.
February 16, 2015