adbright

Monday, October 23, 2017

wisdom to the future

wisdom to the future

fiction
edward w pritchard


Sleep softly good pilgrim
strain to remember where everyone is gone.
True, bears or baboons no longer attack the camp on mass
but one early am you awaken utterly alone,
not a sound,
all are vanished into insignificant befores.
Where is the campfire that warmed the clan
where is the nourishment that settled the group.
Once, once one two- three flaming meteors flash lighted the predawn sky
and generations followed you to find the sound and fragments.
Now the bears are extinct and the children are grown.
You preparing to vanish into inchoate skies.

No comments:

Post a Comment