It will be painful, generational. Hard to keep up. The old will resist fight the loss of their world. Change will be blinding, the fabric of civilization fraying turning to dust. Everything known will be obliterated. Humanity loses its identity.
It’s a fluttering dove, No…mayhap a trembling rabbit, Why does it sound so loud? The shaking, the trembling Now the throbbing, the thudding In my ears, a stampede, The gasp that awakens, confirming It’s the beat of my heart, Out
In this blood-watered land forms flow fluid as serpent becomes lizard, lizard becomes turtle, turtle become cicada, cicada becomes sea urchin, becomes sacred owl with onyx eyes In this soul-fed land fugitive figures fuse into each other, my breath becomes