Apocalypse Later

You come to me saying the end is nigh,

I say, "I'll pencil you in for 2030."

After all, I still have some life to live,

And I insist on seeing it through.

What is the difference between knowing and anxiety?

What is the difference between dread and dispair?

What is the difference between realism and gallows humor?

What is the difference between optimism and delusion?

As the world turns,

on my YouTube feed, self-appointed mystics claim

"The happening" will take those who have served their purpose,

Whose souls aren’t "ready" for the new world.

Be it COVID

Be it microchips

Be it reptilians,

Something is clearly going to kill us all,

(That's the only thing we know for sure)

And if the truth is so elusive, changing faster than science can keep up

with, then fiction doesn't sound so fictional.

After all, there's not a story in the world that can't be sold

And have nothing but time on our hands to read about it.

Sadly, I can’t confirm any of what I was told.

My crystal ball is very dusty.

All I can sense,

As I gaze through the mist,

is that we have entered a new epoch of humanity

An era known as "The New Normal."

And decades from now, my grandchildren will say

"What was it like to start to live in The New Normal?"

And I will say to them,

"My grandchildren,

Some people take awhile to warm up to change,

Others rise out of the ashes like a phoenix,

Incredibly, it is not always the winners

Who run face first into the fire, after all, it was not

part of the plan, in fact, there are shards of glass all

over the floor.

Hey, don’t be shy!

Pick them up with your soft hands,

For a fresh cut is part of living;

and wash off the blood with a sigh, and the resigned

bravery of one who Just Gets On With It."

Back to today,

As time remains suspended in amber,

All I can do is yearn for sunsets,

And pine for the beach.

I imaagine myself walking across the shore, a cigarette in my hand

Feeling the grainy sand between my toes

And the frigid water lapping up against my calves

When I wade in too deep

I hear the whisper of the waves as they gently slide up to the sand.

I imagine watching the evening sky turn into a beautiful pallette

Of neon pink, blue, purple, orange, and red

I picture myself quietly bearing witness as an entire flock of geese glide,

In a determined V formation

Towards the new horizon of whatever terrifying and beautiful

Cataclysm next awaits us

When all of this is over, and seconds before the closing credits,

I will place my feet in the water, and I will stop wanting anything more,

and I will take my stash of dented cans and freeze-dried goods out of the

cabinets and scurry them under my bed,

to wait out the next apocalypse.