The road is serpentine,
ten thousand years old
and disappearing into the rusted thicket
of an ultimate and raped repose.
It is a bad omen.
Stone and fire, primordial gods,
have summoned machinery
from the techno void,
steam and atoms
spiraling into the hands
of a wicked smith
girding the planet in steel.
The beast has consumed
ribbons of rust, spinning clouds
into multicolored miasma
and the smithy’s iron lust.
The holy man and poet
die in their caves
while the earth purges itself
in hot red apocalypse.
But what will be left
when this misguided penance is complete,
when the rush to mechanical revolution
has erased the chance to once again in Eden meet?
~William Hammett
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