The Longevity of Language
The Longevity of Language
At the end of the world the words will wrap and choke
Like overindulged weeds in the ravished garden of humanity.
While we scuttle and crawl by like brown backed cockroaches,
Though not so mighty-
The widespread words will be the only reminder (remainder)
Of our great and powerful, unconquerable Empire.
Libraries will sit, their shelves laden with novels and short stories
No one will read again; the voices of the authors now
Only echoes of a long ago time when no one bothered to
Listen to them anyway.
Language will rise, glorious, from the smoking ashes of men
Like a fiery Phoenix while the world is flayed open by
Violence, pollution, destruction, poverty, apathy, and ignorance.
Only then-the King Lists and cartouches and contracts
Of our world will remain like so much precious gold
In a desolate barren land that has no use for it.
Only then-the words, sentences, paragraphs, tales
Of hate, love, indifference, power;
Will have to ask themselves the question,
As if they had tongues to do it:
“Do we still exist if there is no one to hear us, read us, write us, speak us?”
They will not receive an answer.
RLJ