What will happen, when our last
parade of Palo Verde petals
paint the blue sky yellow?
Beyond the frantic flight
of ever-fluttering pages,
who will pause to remember
what we did, what we saw,
what we knew, what we missed,
who we loved and carried forward,
who we–proud and bold–held,
before the blossoms fell?
What happened to that wondrous world and the copper torch held high?
Where is the civilization our forefathers and magnificent mothers built?
How was it hollowed out by a misguided meteorite that split the earth?
Why was it carved and quartered for the sake of few and ache of many?
When did it become an unbearable black hole they couldn’t climb out of?
Who forged this false universe and transformed it into a grim reality?
I guess we’ll never know … I guess we’ll never learn.
Written by Mark Johnson, February 7, 2020
Mark Johnson Stories 