Organisms of the ancient world
Strophied in their decay.
Living in their striated half-lives to become fodder
For our cars.
These half-lives suspended within darkness
Replete with nutrients of nothing and everything
Atoms denying physicality. A mucus membrane worth killing over,
A landmass of surface tension and ill will.
Underneath the crust,
Tectonic shifts move, bulge through the ages,
The rings of trees count the generations.
We lose ourselves to fibrous bones puddling
Into amber gold, a lubricant
To whet our cogs, our pistons
Our engines that
Drive us forward. Into hostility laced horizons,
Into sunsets brimming with toxicity.