legacy of a goose egg

a poem

Photo by Jasmin Egger on Unsplash

It was nice weather for early March
a warmer kind of cool
Awakened from their gray slumber
my instincts screamed for a walk

I looked for somewhere humans weren’t
away from the hurried violence of traffic
apart from the chaos of noise and exhaust

Someplace seeds fell to the earth
rather than beer cans, liquor bottles
and condom wrappers

I went to the rim of the gorge
to walk beneath bare limbs and blue sky
above soaring birds and roaring water

Beside that river of such primeval force
which carved this gorge through eons of time
and hundreds of feet of rock

I was forcefully reminded again

All our accomplishments and desires,
our vanities and passions
amount to less than one big goose egg

If we destroy the environment
to the point we also destroy ourselves
— so what?

Life will carry on as if we never were
iterating on to “THE NEXT BIG THING”
“NEW AND IMPROVED” with a different kind of beauty

The Universe does not care about us
not even in the slightest

And apparently, neither do we