Once We're gone

The story of earth once we leave

 

Once we’re gone who will remember us?

Once our cars stop moving and our chairs start squeaking, who will fix them?

Once the skies start raining debris of metal, plastic and dangerous fuel, who will stop them?

Once our tales stop telling and our art stop speaking, who will hear them?

Once our flesh peels away and our bones turn to ash, who will care?

 

Once we’re gone will the earth remember us?

Will she morn the children’s passing that sought to mimic her every move?

Will she remember the creatures that tried to defy her, destroy her, preserve her, worship her, and work against her?

Will she remember the trees we cut or the ones we planted?

Will she remember out self importance or our humility?

 

Of course she’ll remember us, who can for get us, man, the creatures that turned her plains into cities and mountains into villages.

Who could forget the ones that tried to win over the rocky terrain of Greece and dry hot sands of Egypt?

Who could forget the men that crafted images from marble and homes from granite?

Who could forget the ones that stole children from their homes and memories from their brothers?

Who could forget themselves?

Is man not earth himself, is he not ash and dust and wisdom and the urge to survive?

Is he not life and death and the cycles of nature?

Is he not, in himself, the earth? And who can forget themselves?

 

Once we’re gone will the skies and air mourn us?

Will they whisper our secrets in years to come?

Will they remember the music we made and stories we told?

Will they remember the birds we kept or the ones we ate?

Will they remember our flight or the cost of that flight?

 

Of course they’ll remember; who could forget the creatures that pulled bows across strings and belted notes as pure as the Zephyr?

Who could forget the ones that stared into the heavens trying to decipher her stars?

How can they ignore our need to feel the wind against out face and the star dust in our hair?

How can they forget themselves?

Does the wind not seek higher planes and thoughts as man does?

Does the sky not expand its mind endlessly and absorb the knowledge of the universe into it’s self with the fervor of a starved child?

Is man not, in himself, the wind? And who can forget themselves?

 

Once we’re gone will the sun look for us?

Will it sputter and fail when it gazes down and see the creatures it sustained dead and gone?

Will it recall the times we ripped out the hearts of our fathers and presented it on an altar in hopes of its favor?

Or will it remember the times we disregarded its heat and complained about its fires?

 

Of course he’ll remember us.

Who could forget the men that derived power from its heat and strength from its rays?

Who could forget the women that bathed its beauty and danced under its lights?

Who could forget the children that laughed and played and darted after the shadows it cast and rested under its warmth?

Who could forget themselves?

Does man not posses a will like the sun, a driving force that enables him to fly into the heavens, climb the highest peaks, and swim the deepest depths?

Does man not glow when he is happy and exerts heat in his finest moments?

Does man not destroy and burn the things that stand in his way?

Is man not, in himself, the sun? And who can forget themselves?

 

Once we’re gone will the seas miss us?

Will she miss our boats and ferries and ships?

Will she miss our splashes and waves and ripples and crushes?

Will she ask the skies about the creatures that loved her of the ones that ruined her body?

Will she crash against the shores pulling in our memories or will she shun our thoughts with care less lapse?

 

Of course she’ll remember us.

Who could forget the beast that tried to tame the ocean’s waves?

Who could forget the bodies that moved like the whales and swam like the dolphins?

Who could forget the women that mimicked her movements in dance and art?

Who could forget themselves?

Is man not like seas in the way he loves and holds and takes care of others?

Is man not like the waters on the way he moves with the flow of time and the grace of life?

Does he not ebb with the time and flux with the era?

Does he not smile a smile that can take in all the cares of the world and turn it into love?

Is man not in himself the seas? And who can forget themselves?

 

Once we’re gone, no one will take care of our cars.

No one will care about our houses or pets or money or statues.

The stars could forget about our space ships, the earth about our homes, the sun our crops and the oceans our streamliners.

But they will not, cannot, forget themselves.

Author's Note

I wrote this for a class, I got the idea for this from a documentary.