We had a rather gothic night the other night, contemplating the end of the world, and how it would arrive. It led to some ruminations, but as ever, all responses were different, and in differing formats. Here is a poem from Jude Davison, on the subject.
The Great Dawn of Perfection
The two sat side by side drinking it all in
their senses heightened
each cell intuitively aware yet oblivious just the same
no need for knowledge or understanding
just beingness now
alive in the moment
the ebb, the flow, the out-breathe and in
It had taken a long time to reach this point
A slow unhurried evolution
As rocks and stones had surely, would surely, be and had been
tossed on endless waves by time’s faithful hands
to finally evolve into perfect single grains of sand
on fathomless beaches
so it had been foreseen
that this moment would surely arrive
The elders had prophesied all
passed down stories, left clues
in drawings and creature stirrings
We listened and were told
Cellular signs and animal instincts
infinite wisdom and knowledge ingrained
expressed, translated and transmuted
so that future generations, like ours
would recognise its glory and behold
But back then, before, in another era
in what came to be known as the dark times of humanity
the world had stretched and grown its awkward arms
through chaos and progress
through wars and famines
through technology and science
art and artifice
into a raging birth of epic proportions
The symptoms and warnings
the scars left by progress wheels
were plain in view
for those who had eyes
and who dared to see
Giant monoliths of concrete glass and steel
ascended from the earth
Up and up towards the heavens they flew
Each one bigger and higher
more fire resistant and weather proofed
totemic symbols that shadowed the ground
believing in their own fabled truths
They clustered together like desperate orphans
then multiplied, mutated, unstoppable viruses
spreading across the lands to become the precious cities
the promised lands of silver and gold
the shanty towns of the sick and old
the hospitals and care homes where the prosperous lay dying anyway
And minnow businessman took orders from billionaire sharks
who financed it all through deceit, tax evasion and greed
and turned base metals into dark
Then there it shimmered and swayed – in all its glory – the modern world unveiled
There was some modesty that housed the worried souls
the ones who recognised, saw and believed
but were helpless and lost
Destined by fate, at what cost?
Meanwhile the leaders sat in their watch towers drawing up plans
devising solutions and promising change
but oh, how they took, and took
in tweets they said that taking was good
all in the name of Allah and God and Jim Beam and Eurovision
and all they gave back was their tainted blood
Blood from a stone
water into wine
everything that was possible, was
and the magicians laughed, and the charlatans made note
the excuse papers wrote, just because
But down below these hollow skyscraper cathedrals
amidst the tangled webs of asphalt
steel girders, superhighways
flightpaths and navigation routes
Alongside railway tracks and cracked oil-spilling pipelines
under moss and detritus where moisture and dampness thrived
we gathered and grew, but mostly bided our time
And then it happened, as sure as it was writ
The fall of mankind
The gleaming towers were the first things to crumble
Symbolic?
One can find symbolism in the simplest of dreams
the grass that took root, free for the offerings
made available by chance
finding purchase in the in between
the cracks of the crushed heaps of concrete and steel
The vines and creepers too
were quick to replenish and start anew
a green revolution, strident and keen
Then the fires that raged for decades
some say it was more like millennia
a cleansing cremation of gas and oil
of timber and plastic
belched toxic pink smoke
burning bigger holes in the stratosphere
while gleefully, the sun smiled
the ozone, no longer a barrier to its fearsome ultraviolet caress
And the seas and oceans took note, rose up and began
the waters that had watched and waited
and gurgled and laughed their murderous mirth
as their waves began to reclaim what was theirs since birth
drowning all in the depths from whence it had sprung
And so, here we sit and drink it all in
antennaes that twitch in anticipation
with tiny eyes that revel and wait
for the cocoon to reveal its glorious fate
In time, some will return to the waters
the oceans and streams
slip out of our shells
grow gills and fashion fins
and learn to feed from the murky depths that over time
have become rich again with nutrients new
Others may grow limbs
feathers, beaks, tails and claws
learn to reproduce in the trees
burrow in the sand
walk on two legs or four
But until that time
that glorious unhurried time
we can simply bear witness and behold
basking in this moment still
and watch as the sun breaks on the distant vale and hill
as the great dawn of perfection unfolds
Carlisle Writers' Group 