Certainty


To stand on such uncertain ground
where one mistake could be our last
to measure man as measureless
on scales tipped with doubt,
and those quixotic sands slipped loose
our hourglass, this island earth, run out.

60 kilometers crust, another 2000 mantle fair,
plenty to spare, those specks of goo, the driller's nozzle
plenty to share - straws 51 cm wide by 10km deep,
guzzle up all until it's through, the seep
that bubbles to God knows where.

A pinprick in this spinning globe, whole-earth shell
(510 million km square, six-and-a-half sextillion tons)
what does it care about straws or wells-
a world so massive, beyond compare,
the deepest water, the furthest horizon.

Will we find the deed already done,
small tears in the fragile dream enough-
an aerosol can or a speck of soot
(three-hundred parts per million permitted)-
a few degrees hotter minus the sun,
this drift of blue-white mist turned steam?

Call it ice, call it fire. Who cares,
ambition and greed will do nicely.
In any case don't eat the fish,
oiled or scalded they'll not be spared,
all will be poisoned in the spoiling seasons,
a rot that surrounds our best intentions.

The rest of our schemes, our fake inventions,
a three-card monte, a quick cap & trade
on an island redoubt sinking into the goo
(the hubris of thinking in human dimensions.)
Such is certainty, given the time,
that we can recover after time has run out.

November 2010







Is there anything we can do now, before it is too late?
Yes, you can try this: Deep Sea Drilling - Demand Preemptive Safety


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