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Destruction | Extinction



I understand the necessity and the inevitability of change,
but it doesn't help when I look around
and see all the great things of the past
that I have been taught to revere
lying in ruins or dying.

Maybe the soulless are right
and one shouldn't even notice beautiful things,
much less love them, to armor oneself
for the possibility of outliving them.

What are the chances
that I would live at precisely the time
when so much ends?
Will the ones who come next, in the midst of the loss,
feel the same?

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.