End Of The World, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

How comforting it would be
For me, to think in short sequence
Estranged to mundane long haul reality

To think of the phantasms, of measures
Finisterre of foreboding steep drops
Onto the jagged unforgiving rocks

The suicides of Saipan
Fear of our fellow man
We must defend our clan

Smashed by waves, thrashed
Like a seal in a great white’s mouth
Tossed about in limp ragdoll fashion

To be happy with prosaic lackluster
Existence, without the knowledge
Of my species insistence, persistence

In turning this vanda coerulea into
A spherical landfill, wilting by our own hand
Wax dripping down a declining candlestick

In turning this blue orchid into hemoglobin
Feasting on a clandestine ocean of arrogance
Festering in our delusion of self importance

A long slit down our forearm vein
Cataracts of antiquity still remain
The fog masterfully isolates us

The lighthouse is impotent
Though it’s few operators
Strive to be reality’s bullhorn

Is it too late? 11:59 indeed.
(end)

This is my sometimes wishing I could be oblivious to history, to our species tribalism, to our own constant self destruction and clinging to the past. How I wish sometimes I could be that person that only worries about my bills and my cats. That I could ignore the religious divisions in the world, and our over pollution and arrogance that if we just defeat the planet, if we just defeat our enemy once and for all. Sometimes I wish I could be stuck in the moment and never be aware of those harsh realities.

I wish that I wasn’t aware how the mythologies of the ancient world still have a global impact on our species behavior. And how those petty beefs lead to distracting my fellow humans from fixing the one home all 8 billion of us have.

I was inspired by yet another Plath poem, “Finisterre” https://allpoetry.com/poem/8498391-Finisterre-by-Sylvia-Plath