It is coming. And, you cannot stop it. Deep beneath your feet-- below the debris of day to day, beneath the lava tubes and tidal pools, beyond the farthest tree on farthest shore and under all the tunnels man has built: it is sleeping. Gestating, if you will, in mother's womb (that global warming is but the way nature surrounds the next) and while tis not yet time for tumultuous birth, the earthen mother labors. Birthing pains crack bedrock, unleash molten lava profanities spewed and forgotten by the speaker; remembered by some who listen. Harsh winds wipe her forehead and still, the birds will sing of a morning: for no birth can be mourned. It is coming: perhaps in your lifetime, perhaps in that of your descendant's descendants. But they do say the third or fourth to come comes quickly. And you will be frozen mid-step, unable or unwilling to run. Perhaps the fortune tellers will read the words carved into tsunami waves or in the dew scrawled across the tundra. Perhaps the ancient ones will drum arrival in the older ways: but will you have eyes to hear or ears to see? Will it matter? It is coming: regardless of global law, intrinsic penalties or screamed voices. There will be no stopping this evolution. The simplest and most accepting will adapt for with understanding comes acceptance. A snake will shed its skin; there will be yet another ring in the nautilus. |