When hours passed and no one came inquiring
About the source of distant plumes of smoke,
I looked around and thought it’d be inspiring
If they were underneath this when they woke,
And so I made us beds within the basement
And watched the children cough themselves to sleep,
Cocooned a while in stifling encasement
So they’d emerge as I had from the deep.
And so they did, like groundhogs in the spring
Considering their nascent adaptation
While I explained that one day everything
Would mock their home’s infernal transformation.
I told them, “Children, learn to rest at ease in
Whatever detritus my gods provide,
For when the Earth begins its darker season
They’ll be no other places to reside.
And in that time, the ones who rise as leaders –
Your children or your grandchildren, perhaps –
Will stand alone, as all the world teeters,
In smiling at the imminent collapse.
Now, put aside all notions of returning
Your monstrous souls to permanent gestation
And let us start our home fires brightly burning
Along the path of gloried devastation.”