B.C to A.D to A.E

After Earth was flung; out of orbit; into space,
The cold set in and life disappeared without a trace.
The surface of the planet was a barren empty void.
All of Man’s accomplishments: all of them, destroyed.

But our ancestors, who’d taught themselves to hear The Transmission,
Had prepared their kin to undergo the Underland transition.
The window, though, was narrow: just two full surface-days
To surrender their agenda in the fast descending haze.

Paying bills and buying houses, trying to soldier on;
These things were of the old agenda . . . going . . . going . . . gone.
So down they came to Underland: the only place to come.
But Underland was only the beginning of the sum.

And as the sum unfolded, a bridge began to form,
And our ancestors crossed over. The crossing point was warm.
It shimmered like a stargate at the centre of the Earth:
The sum of ALL equations that could only equal birth.

My father told this story to me on this very beach.
And the purpose of a story is the lesson it can teach.
So listen well, my Guido; my bright eyed special son.
For, tomorrow is a story that has not yet been begun.

“Can I start it now,” asked Guido shyly, with a smile.
“I’d like to go and sit with Christina for a while.
“She’s got teeny-tiny hermit crabs gathered round her toes.
“She wants to sing a song to them. And I know how it goes.”

“Why not send the thought to her, or maybe just a clue.”
“Because I love to sit with her, and do the singing too.”
“Very well. Be home by Eight. What story for tonight?”
“The one about the justice system, please, if that’s all right.”

2:13am Friday 16th November 2012 ©Simon Welsh Poetry