our crib careening away from the sun
the darkness of the to be skylit

night boring a hole into the coming dawn
where traces of man are hardly noticed

where the errors and tragedies
no longer matter or bother

with the broadened face of 
another world roaring into being

as the shackles of the old are
cast into the dead ditch of time

and yes oh yes it is too damn late 
to bother with what you’ve thrown away

with what has been squandered
smashed and wasted before 

soon enough another attempt
will surely be ratcheted into being

to once again without a shudder dash
the new very last chance to quantum dust