Dear darkening ground,
you’ve endured so patiently the walls we’ve built,
perhaps you’ll give the cities one more hour
and grant the churches and cloisters two.
And those that labor—let their work
grip them another five hours, or seven,
before you become forest again, and water, and widening wilderness
in that hour of inconceivable terror
when you take back your name
from all things.
Just give me a little more time!
I want to love the things
as no one has thought to love them,
until they’re worthy of you and real.
in the north pole it rains red– toxic vapors accumulated from the rest of the world fall from the sky into the ancient fresh water ice in forms of red toxic pellets. the toxins tend to trickle to the poles and because the weather is in the freezing numbers what once were invisible vapors coming from our areas now come in bullets.
“The thing that is hardest for us to do at the moment is to come up with a consensus about reality that is consistent with the way things are really going– to come up with a coherent picture of what’s happening to us and what we’re going to do about it — the noise in the system in the form of so many peoples ideas and opinions about what’s happenings and so many means and narratives and stories that are floating around along with wishes, hopes delusions and other not helpful intellectual material is making it very hard for us to articulate where we are in this point of history and what we’re going to do.”
-James Howard Kunstler