Is there anything
emptier than words without a pen?
than a heart without a home?
than an Earth without a star
to say, “we can try again”
on another world
with better machines
evolution is always
like an experiment with time
a species has to mature
in the short time it is given
or die trying, that’s us
always at the brink
without fully realizing it
my drawer is like a rat lair
full of the dreams of humanity
but can history say
we truly loved our world?
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“Can history say/we truly loved our world?” Such an awesome, uniquely said thought. Love this!
I like this poem. A lot.
It brought to mind these lines:
“…It’s when I’m weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig’s having lashed across it open.
I’d like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate wilfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:
I don’t know where it’s likely to go better…”