how towers crumble
but how we taunt the moon
or to touch down on mars
no. no. not so soon
does one need to fly up to the sun directly
to be the peril’s fool?

even the sphinx slumbers blanketed in sand
a volcano’s slight rumble buries lands
or rises up in paradise-platforms
for pineapples and a hula dance
alas-

here we are, globally connected
and yet far-miles apart-
by some measures taught,
all the while-
we only know what we know-
certainties we glean from antiquity
but with no TV screen
to turn up a thumb or down, we switch the channel

only as smart, as the next start
of a day, a decade, a generation
looking back with the glass of current indignation
will the future be-
instant thought transmission? I’ll never know

and still then
the limit is not imagination
but this finite evolution, of humanity, in the speck of time we have.