Weathering Myopia

Mortality has a new playbook. Trouble is, few are reading it.

Weathering Myopia
                      by Odin Roark

Forecast

Floods, fires and famine
Will use sentient beings
As favorite grave markers

Remnants of man will be rendered
A blind people gazing at a silent movie
Munching on freshly grilled heart and soul
Chopped into the same hot skillet
As the browning onions
Tossed about by the tearless
Fast lane
Fast buck
Fast Eddies
Administrating earth’s demise

Survivors will become
Like fraying hemp
Unable to keep life’s battered suitcase
From bursting open
Revealing the species’ chosen conceit
A solipsistic paralysis
A bloated sea-like anomaly
Beached on the sands of ignorance

Already the crow and vultures of greed
Are grooming themselves
For the temporary spoils
Earth’s temperature-kill by inaction
To be tagged and entered
As bottom line profit

Seemingly little conscience
Cares to look ahead
Where a disseminated planet
Will be paved with lifeless bodies
Flies upon their lips
Nary a smile to be found
Or lifted hand of servitude left

Such final days will be spent
Gasping for air
Envying ant and roach
The only real survivors
Nestling into our dusty weedscape
Grabbing the best seats
For this final act
Where ghostly bodies and inert decay
Will take their bow
From refuse cans
Awaiting nature’s recycling

Curtain

High above this tragedy
There remains the enigmatic head-shaking of the cosmos
Knowing we were told our existence
Was but a dot in the vast universe
Being given a chance

But…

Well…

No further questions