Here in these electronic sands, a furtive glimpse
Of a moment in the threads of an ever shifting,
Insensate world

Humans vanishing.

In their own words
They were strange and wonderful
Splendid and vile

Insensitive to the loss
Of their inimitable gifts

Yet water still carves its voice into rock
And the wind is still the herald
For the rapture
Continuing
In the rituals of the earth

— August 2026 —