What Then?

And after we’ve taken it all
After every last bit
Of dirt
Of oil
Of people and power and 
Dig down, climb up to the heaven-hell
Of what we say we believe
And find an infinity cavern of 
White, silent halls
Forever and forever again
What then?

And after our micro chips
Stumble from our fingers to our insides
When we become an it
The it we have forced upon
Everyone and everything that is other.
When we give up our empathy and humanity
To an algorithm that learns from
Gnarl-toothed, rancid-dreaming men
What then?

And after the last bird sings
The last bow rides the strings
Propelled by a human arm
With muscle
And sinew
And dirty weather, stanching down
To the elbow of what makes us human
Maybe then?

Maybe then—
Maybe then—
We will put it all back
For one-thousand more years.
Put back what we’ve stolen from ourselves
To give to ourselves
What we wanted
All along.

***

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