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Atom Bombs in Rural Berkshire

This poem is a dark one, I guess, but I liked it enough to want to share it. It’s not about anything in particular, but at the same time it sort of us. I’ll let you be the judge.

 

There’s no such thing as immortality,
although most of us would like to think so,
and the ghosts we see
climbing in and out of windows
are just a trick of the light
on our innocent eyes
because it shines so bright
it blinds us.

Now I know
what I don’t know,
and I also know
I only believe things
if I see them.

Luckily,
the observable universe
has plenty going on,
although mostly
it’s all contained
within the solar system.

Space scares me,
and I always used to worry
one day the sun will die
and nothing we did
would ever matter,
but now I tend to think
about explosions.

The world won’t end
with a whimper,
we’re too far gone
for that to fly,
and an a-bomb strike
will wipe us out
in a couple of centuries.

I mnight even
live long enough
to witness it.

Published inPoetry

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