114. The Future

Man has a choice.
Between dark.
Between light.
Who will write the pages of the next thousand years?
Will it be peace and harmony with nature and ourselves
Living in a glorious utopian paradise?
Or will there only be more bloodshed and violence
As we fall into the chasm
Of our own making?
When will our star fall from its lofty height?
What new stars will replace us?
Will they pave their roads with us
As we with those before?
There will be new Ozymandias statues
Erected and worn like the old.
Who will come to sing our song?
I don’t know.
The muse hasn’t told me.
I only report what comes to my fingers.
My muse tells me only what has been written.
But she says this,
It’s only the prologue to an even greater story.

91. Prologue IV

O sweet muse!

You have shown me so much.

For that I am grateful.

I’ve seen the living fossils

Evolving from the mud.

I’ve seen the passing of empires

Built on dust and blood.

Fearful men came and went.

Ozymandias statues crumbled to the ground

As new ones were erected over them.

I’ve seen the fires of revolution

The bloody rivers of war and conquest.

Now you point on.

I shake with the thought of future terrors I have yet to see.

You, like the angel of death before my grave,

Silently point to that cobweb encrusted door

Begging me to see that dreaded inscription.

Please muse, I say, must I push on?

Still silently, the bony finger

Clasping blackened scythe

Urges me to push on

As witness.

36. Prologue II

O sweet muse,
You have shown me so much.
The creation of the cosmos,
How the galaxy started to spin,
I met the Forge Master
He showed me how he shaped the molten earth.
You showed the rise of oceans
Gave me the recipe for life.
Because of you I saw the glorious animal explosion,
The triumphant rise of plants and fish.
How fun it was to watch the reptiles build their saurian empire and conquer.
How humbling it was to see their decline.
I then saw the rise of the mammalian empire.
I heard the primitive drums at the dawn of man
As they walked across the continents
Building blessed and cursed ancient jewels
Along ancient waterways.
Now, gentle muse,
Guide me further into history.
Lay me to rest at Homer’s feet
Where he will tell of his wondrous tribe of marble men
And guide me into the deep, dark future.
O, my muse, you have shown me so much.
Yet there is still much more to see.