Evolutionary Tears

Evolutionary Tears

Behold!  Oh stop with the religious angelisms.

To the future I listen from rhombic speakers.

I float in the air like Caesar's thirty molecules

Brushing through your veoli in search

Of mushroom seeds and rabbit turds.

I am still a being in the time of solar dawns

That tear at atoms releasing their contents,

A bag corn chips scattered on pavement

Trampled by oxen that pull covered wagons

Made of glass and unknown metals.

My descendants settle in cracks 

In the concrete of black holes and super giants.

I disturb all conventions with a dedicated thought.

Monster of Motion, be not still at the end.

Your fight against the calm goes on

As it screams for me to hear its familiar octaves.

Barry G. Wick