With life becoming more and more precarious as humankind races to see who can destroy who the fastest, itís easy to forget the means to exit are not without limit, but the perception of oneís exit is boundless.
by Odin Roark
How mischievous the presence of absence.
For tunneling of the psyche
inside the dimness of manís layered complexity
is but the foreplay of the game,
a toying with ďnow you see it,
now you donítĒ of evolutionís shell game,
where the smiles of time and space
float knowingly through each iteration of life.
As for humanityÖ
We may be more akin to surrogate canaries,
set loose in one of creationís cosmic fissures,
a mine shaft where cavernous danger
lurks beside every breath taken,
every sigh expunged,
as we make it to the next level,
not knowing transitionís unlit fuse waits ahead,
about to taunt our involuntary existence,
luring us forward into timeís cyclic ďtimeís up,Ē
the ever patient match-strike away.
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|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|Fear of anarchy abounds. But when compared with the 20th century, where anarchy often flared up and much of the world was self-destructedly on annihilation and subjugation, today's subversive trends are quickly discovered and often very quickly defused.
I prefer the Arthur C. Clarke notion that the human race can expand outward into the universe at an exponential rate for eons to come. In the meantime, for the Earth's occupants, each year becomes better in spite of small calamities like tsunamis and meteor strikes that occasionally befall a geologically active planet covered with an intelligent parasite trying to get rich.
|Reviewed by J. Quantaman
|This poem nails down the hopes and hunches of our time.|