After the end, the beginning,
the long, long humid spring
of flowers learning to bloom
in open niches and the skulls
of cities and their makers,
yet in that ten-million-year spring,
when evolution's starburst
remakes the once insignificant
into myriad ruling forms, echoing
creations of much older springs
following nature's own harsh winters,
likely none to give us one
more moment of reflected existence,
no Ozymandian work of ours
left standing in the
deserts of Chronos
to be witnessed with wonder
by some mind reaching to sapience.
Life, abundant, endures,
travels between the stars
in the begetting cosmic dust,
but intelligence, once extinguished,
hardly re-emerges in some deviant Eden
to bloom in the new summer
under the aging Sun.
26.03.2022
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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