I hold a fossil so common

I hold a fossil so common

that when I took it from its ancient home

no punishment or fine awaited me.

I grasp that single coral horn -

officially named Rugose -

that awoke some 488.3 million years ago

Sometime during the Ordovician Period.

Tethered to the floor of an ancient sea,

it thrived,

its slender filaments flaring forth

from ribbed cones of calcium

to entice - maybe -

to capture - possibly -

sources of necessary nutrients.

Suddenly, then, 251.9 million years ago,

conditions changed.

Locked in place, with no ability to respond,

all Roguse coral died,

victims of the Great Permian Extinction.

So simple, so mindless

that small creature was,

and yet its kind lasted over

a hundred million years.

In such contrast,

we homo sapiens, all of 300,000 years old,

insist that we are special.

We have consciousness,

we reflect, we think -

therefore, we are.

And yet,

so often tethered to beliefs,

beliefs that tell us we are good,

beliefs that show us who is right,

beliefs that dictate what to do to prove our belief,

we cannot see -

or will not see -

what might foment our disbelief:

that conditions have changed.

Extinction of others

has begun.

And still we refuse to act.

I grasp that single coral horn,

and wonder,

given our complexity,

who will grasp us

when we are gone?