Then A Cosmic Collision

Construction of the progress.  Never ending.  Mother nature has her evolutions and she has her eruptions.  Boulders flying, lava creeping, the earth is smoking. 

Clever they are, the doomers.  The science they invent, so uncreative.  We spun slower then, our trip was longer.  The age of the ageless.  Easy, restful.  Then a cosmic collision, a bump in the night.  The air collapsed, some life escaped, spans diminished, heaven is near. 

Less is more.  It is better, our sorrows are brief.  From the little big horn til now, our entitled rights.  Our destiny.  Our greed.  Like the stashers, the grubby selfish, like the true person in all of us. 

A precarious road.  The southwestern way, the direction of the Baja.  The Pacific blues, where the sun disappears perfectly.  Perfectly, every day.