It is life you are going to have to face,
not death's place. We stride away from
one another's place. But it is unusual to imagine,
by the race, with no ways or weaves.
All is made a incomplete day.
What if the breakthrough won't come to...
and we are sending wrong signals,
to our power; plant, where evolution
is made for billions of years
later...and we are all dinosaurs.
We have strode, all to which we have drove,
in the blur of a evoked the sleeping dove.
Sun, if we are growing until we are the lands,
never ants.
The ancients have never stride,
across the space, so we act
on behalf of ignorance,
speculation and this
quasi-religion.
What if there is no breakthrough?
All the Sun is growing too,
and nobody will remember
who.
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Author:
ReflectionShadow (Pseudonym) (
Online)
- Published: June 28th, 2025 19:57
- Comment from author about the poem: Eventually the human being may be something different, but we only wait for the breakthrough...
- Category: Nature
- Views: 1
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