SKIES OPENED after the flood complaining (the future of you)
they stopped. i stepped off the planks of steps into a new world
with everywhere mud.
Then came the animals; a hare stopped to smell too.
No clouds but deepest blue skies
precious stones across the ground
At 700 years old i thought i was a habitual creature
so organized the streets and politics of a few
and watched the seasons and years burst — we took the
technology and knowledge of our ancients;
Gobekli and Egypt and too many civilizations to
tell — so many howled at the moon
although we’d already been there.
Time is a wave like water cascading
mind is a device of denial
summer like winter for you
a world who has lost its memory
but not the sun nor the moon.
:: 02.15.2022 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 