Photo of Stone Carving in Arizona
by Tom Hull

Epitaph

Somewhere in time,
on a distant, desolate planet,
scrawled in a strange hand,
on rock thousands of years old,
an epitaph was found.

"I am the last one left," it said.
"Soon, I too, will be dead.

I come from a noble race,
over 10 billion strong.

The victims of our success,
we couldn't get along.

We called our land, Eden,
for it was a lush and green.

Teaming with beautiful creatures,
bursting at the seam.

Each one surviving,
in its own, unique, way.

A balance we called nature,
held all things in its sway.

Many species died trying,
if their niche had slipped away.

Somehow, we were different,
somehow we were strong.

Not in strength or numbers,
but how we were right in wrong.

We conquered all in our path,
destruction was our song.

Relying on our leaders,
an idiotic throng.

Our science was superior,
and pointed the right way.

But fear and superstition ruled us,
to our eventual dismay.

We said we believed in 'Life,'
to save our own kind.

We let all the others die,
putting us in a terrible bind.

For nature had tricked us,
and we could not see.

That the gene for our survival,
our biggest threat would be.

Since we could sense the future,
we gathered for the storm.

Some gathered more than others,
and our thirst for greed was born.

When something got to be rare,
we drove up its price.

Our moral compass wavered,
and we wound up like the mice.

Scavenging the planet,
for the last grain of rice.

I was the strongest of them all,
the smartest they are dead.

So I am scratching on this rock,
these words run through my head.

The last rain was a week ago,
when I last quenched my thirst.

The hunger gnaws inside of me,
deep within my girth.

For I know that I will die today,
the last man on the planet Ear…"

Copyright 2007 © Ronald W. Hull

12/8/07