There would be a day in the future of this planet when the homo sapiens would see a few farewell storms that would last first a few days, then a few weeks, then a few months, then a few years, and then, although the sapiens wouldn't be around to see these wonderful creations of theirs, centuries and mellenium. By the time these storms would stop, the earth wouldn't remember the scars of the erstwhile pestilence known as man, or their creative hubris, their many gods, and every little bit of what stood on its side of detriment and fall. There would be nothing left in the recording of layers of rocks that would have anything remarkable to say about the vainglorious species that let its fiction eat its own head.
The people and house are roused,
Two clay dams in distress break free.
People like husk and chaff are blown,
Scattered in swirls then whirled into the sea.
Death is here, and it's near, everywhere,
It just shook the mountains too.
The summers will never be green,
The cold like spears, cruel and blue.
Men with gaps between their gods,
The vast and endless unknown.
Feverish and uncertain about the now,
Strange markings on a stone.
Daniel, derna is dead, doomed,
But you haven't taught us anything.
We humans have amnesia,
That help us forget everything.
War mongers we are, by far,
Hallelujah can't neglect those dogs.
We fight with brothers our right,
Guns and blades but no cogs.
And while we are still registering surprise in one location and perhaps patting our own fancy backs that it's not in our backyard, at least where I am now, the nation, now undecided about what to call itself, Bharat or India, has several times the problem that we can see in Libya, if only for its size. The thing is, right now, the press that has the advertisements is in the pockets of the people who don't want to show leaking dams and screaming people getting washed away to sea.
And as it happens, if you don't see it, it's like it never happened. And the population who do sit in front of a television bought with a hard-earned installment doesn't want to fritter away the large screen 4K luxury on low-resolution images of poverty of people who resemble and remind them of them if the drain pipe in their road were to break tomorrow. It's only rancid and rotten people who have nothing better to do than poke their nose into the curated fairy tale that people are trying to build around their otherwise dilapidated ramshackle lives and who don't and can't own expensive 4K televisions that focus on such things. If they did, they'd join the Lotus group, get a large television, and start collecting 4K disaster movies.
