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by Fyn Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #2062063
to a picture of a ship's hulk in the desert


Oceanic dinosaurs no longer float--
how could they ever have?
Steel is heavy, it must have sunk
even then.
Water only comes in trickles now.
Washing all away
come monsooning, but
even then,
it's sand-eaten, no time to float
anything, anywhere.
Too hot to touch.
Even scorpions die in
poisoned shade.
Skeletal reminders warn there is
no succor within.
Even then,
naysayers will argue.
The heat remains, the sands
are endless
and the living
still die. We are all
but living dinosaurs.

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