I’m not getting out.
You’re not getting out.
The tide is rising
and we’re all gonna drown.
We’re made this way;
temporary things.
Vociferous,
meaningless,
each corrupted in our way.
But, so easily convinced
that we are beautiful,
meaningful.
As if we were made to be
programmable,
damnable.
Riding high on our wavelength,
but just a creature from the shore.
Washing up
in the morning,
as if the ocean
doesn’t want us anymore.
It’s a fact,
we’re unembraceable.
Our time comes,
it is inevitable.
No time to mourn,
no time to cry.
Our condition
is terminal.
We only live
until we die.
Made to make,
but we haven’t found a way
to take it with us.
The time comes,
but it’s not what we surmise.
We build ourselves up
on our pedestals,
praying that we will survive.
But, when the day comes,
as the water
closes over us,
hits us like a crashing plane,
explodes upon us like a warhead,
we’ll know the hour and the day.
I’m not getting out.
You’re not getting out.
The tide is rising
and we’re all gonna drown.
HG – 2021
