Traveling Toward the END of Time

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There really is no need
To duck or cover,
Since they took it underground,
So we may become like you,
Blind to the light,
Like Wells’ Morlocks,
Our ashen-grey skin bearing
Signs of their cancerous air,
And yet WE smile,
With chinless wonder,
At the new light that burns red
in OUR reflective lens.

Are WE really so different?
You – or – Us?

Is it not true? that
We ALL eat the fruit of trees
and carelessly disperse their seed,
Lacking (for certain) in curiosity
As our progress crumbles.
Repercussions, I suppose,
From the blindness.
Maybe it’s a good thing,
Somehow,
that we’re no longer distracted
By the beautiful winged beasts
And red crustaceans
That eventually devour us all.

© KMcGee – 2016

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