Centuries gone by
And the snow only fell.
At a time when Vesuvius herself
Couldn’t script a better end,
When humanity has had its fill
Of domineering existence,
Who will find us
Face up in the dust?
What will they see when they
land on our ruin?
of death and libraries
and of the hatred we bred,
what will they think when
they find our names on that crest
Something frail? Something
beautiful? Something calm and at peace?
…yet the work our hands have
calloused for has built nothing but this
world where only steel and chemicals
help us sleep as we should,
where eyesight and handguns are the
only hope to see the morning.
This signature of ours,
this is the insufferable insignia
that they will find in our wake…
Borne on the faces in the ash,
and in the words left unburned,
and carved in the machines
that perpetuate their own necessity
…They will see it and cry.
It's hard to be critical here because I see a lot of the techniques I myself employ. I think that you're using them properly, and that it honestly shows.
On your last line have you played around with dropping a word? I have read it w/o "only" and I think it sounds more...dramatic. Of course you'd need a comma or some such at that point then, most likely, but still...
This is really, really difficult. I think it's all spot on and I'm trying damned hard to find errors but I can't.
I love reading your work. Everytime it shows me this beatifully fragile view of the human condition. The way we live. What will future generations say? The will see what we have imprinted on this earth, pain, suffering, war, hatered. When all else is gone and only simple fragments remain, the bloodiest will be made into gods. It is the way history works. When we are dying and decaying then we will be remembered by only a few things; the peace we brought, the great works we did, or the blood we spilled. But honestly which legends are better the ones where man kills all his foes to regain his wife and country or the story of the man starving himself for freedom? I love the art in this poetry and I am sorry i got a bit off topic. I wrote what came to mind.
The fact that we can acknowledge our own existence leads me to believe that our souls won't be destroyed. Something like energy is neither created nor destroyed, and we don't have the understanding to fully comprehend something that always was. Like souls. I think this was a great poem. I think fear drives a lot of people to believe in a fairytale, a God, nothing at all...people chose to believe what comforts them...I myself believed for a long time in a God, because I was afraid of disappearing...my significant other was an athiest because he is afraid of judgement and hell. Fear is a type of energy and can neither be created nor destroyed...sitting here thinking on this is unsettleing me, so I think I will go on to something more comforting in order to abate my own fears. This poem was thought provoking, it was art. excellent.