The Curmudgeon

YOU'LL COME FOR THE CURSES. YOU'LL STAY FOR THE MUDGEONRY.

Sunday, February 14, 2016

Fear Not Oblivion

Fear not oblivion; your life and all it felt,
Consumed, and threw away, the planet owns:
Eternal landfill now, a plastic welt.
As to your death, the echo of your groans
Will stay in rocks your squabbles failed to melt:
The faint and fading imprint of your bones.
And if too few of you should drown in mud
To fossilise and let the future know
That you were here, when finally the blood
And flesh of earth excretes you? Even so,
Though you be gone, your poisons shall not die.
Fear not oblivion, for they will wait,
And with their glowing glories testify
To mutant insects curious of your fate.

Samuel Grimsnipe

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