When the sea fled to the core,
twisted into a spiral descent,
boiled and drove down life with it,
of that, millennia earlier, it was foretold;
red, scratched circles on cave walls.
No one believed events could turn
as sour as they somehow did.
The earth would surely last til eternity,
and if the ending had to come,
surely it would come from above.
The last decision
would be out of their hands,
it might have been strangely divine.
Still, the danger was within,
not in the skies, but in the blindness
of mankind’s red-eyed pupils;
injustice, dictators, despots,
and the sharp crack of civil human rights.
Did primitive man paint of that?
