A Wednesday in March two-thousand-twenty-four

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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
constructively
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

35 responses to “A Wednesday in March two-thousand-twenty-four

  1. Whew, I am thankful we can breathe yet seven days a week rather than Tuesday night and / or Wednesday. We definitely have to take care of our air….and our forests.

  2. learn to save our breath….well that does not sound fun…though if you have found the solution for reciprocity…perhaps i need to work on my muon…ha…ugh on all the trees that we cut down…making way for what…perhaps this future…

  3. I hope we can still be thankful for breathing and fresh air in a few decades from now. I can understand the need to save trees but even though I read a lot on the iPad, nothing beats a paper book.

  4. Wow – I love the first verse though I only understand a fragment of it. Your view of the future is so bleak yet so very possible. I hope we can find a way to realise we must protect the natural world before such terrible events occur. Your poem is a salutary warning.

  5. I have a two word poem about the future: Soylent Green
    I absolutely w.o.w. this poem. Being a sci-fi person, this is more up my alley than pink unicorns and such. I guess being an engineer (retired) puts me in a logical frame of mind at times and everytime I see trees and woodlands being obliterated for yet another grouping of ugly houses on postage stamp lawns, or pavement put down for a “chic new shopping experience”, I want to hit the re-start button.

  6. oh heck.. saving our breath and being awake just one day in the week – otherwise we wouldn’t have enough oxygen…? dang it… that doesn’t sound worth living at all… ugh

  7. It would definitely be interesting to see what kind of letters of condemnation we might receive if the future world could write to our present day.

  8. Goodness this is a stellar response Bjorn ~ I admire how frightening it can be, saving our breath and being remembered of water & hummingbird ~ That whole second stanza is nostalgic and your ending draws a punch ~ Cheers ~

  9. I’d imagine in the future all the forests would be gone and the glaciers would be no more; thus, so many (more) animals extinct… and only awake one day a week? just kill me before it gets to that point…

  10. Chime in with Anthony on that one – if I had to breathe only on Tuesday or Wednesday, just kill me know! Or miss walks through the forest (although I probably contribute to deforestation with the amount of books I own and have not yet read).

  11. my uncle worked in a paper mill in the 50’s and he along with many there died in their 40’s… makes one think of real progress… “we had to learn to save our breath, for Wednesday every second week”… i had to pause at these lines… makes one wonder…

  12. Nice…I like the second stanza, too, as it sets off the haughtiness of the first one .. if you will of our forests’ clear cuts against the innocent life within it..and then you elaborate with language that is just as apt as it is scary…that is, if I got this one..?

  13. Bjorn, once again you’ve made me cry. The first stanza: I hadn’t thought about it, but you have it right – we won’t understand a word of what’s written to us from the future, for technical gobbledegook. The rest of the poem is pure sadness and regret for the mess WE made of things.

  14. At least trees can be replanted… I’m much more concerned about how we are polluting the source of all life on the planet, our oceans. A chilling view of the future, Bjorn. Such views of the possibilities give us the ammunition we need to make sure it doesn’t happen like that.

  15. This makes me appreciate the air I breathe now, the trees I see now. And I want to find ways, even if small, to preserve what I have now. Good write Bjorn.

  16. Yes.. to BREATHE is to live.. anything else cannot be real… and to be human is to live a life of breathe instead of think.. i’m only human and i relish that feeling in every word and step of song and dance.. wHere i only BREATHE ALIVE!..:)

    i DANCE AND SING BREATHE WITH EVERY dance STEP of life i take…

    And thank you for reminding me of THAT!..:)

    The NIGHTMARES OF BRAINS that no Zombie can even touch…

  17. Bjorn, this comes closest to my pessimism, the future viewed through ash-colored glasses. Makes me want to travel forward if only to warn people today. You promulgate that helplessness people of environmental conscience feel as we look toward the shit landscapes, the choking air… your mention of breathing once a week, the reference to dverse on a Tuesday, these only enhanced the real dverse experience. You have harnessed a monster here, Bjorn, and I expected nothing less. I tried to get rosier in my view, got all prophetic and not-Amy-like hopeful… but I know in my heart that yours is the eventual outcome. BRILL. Love, Amy

  18. “we had to learn to save our breath,
    for Wednesday every second week….”
    these two lines really caught my attention, Bjorn,
    not a future i would want for myself or the future generations, so let us save the forests instead so we do not need to learn to save our breath..

  19. I wonder how knowing today that it will be possible to send messages back from the future year, will affect how fast humans get to that future or if they even get there. Choices might be different provided the new knowledge.

  20. Chilling stuff. Fighting for air (as, for example, when one has a terrible cold) is a horrible physical strain. So much so, that, I find myself mentally agitated in such a circumstance. And it occurs to me, then, that we humans take breathing for granted – with what is almost flippant disrespect.

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