Mythology returns to monotony

Last words, lost voices

coming back to us,

saying the same thing:

the destroyer was here.

Went through our being,

we were it.

And it did not come with a bang.

It came like a wave,

first gaining momentum,

then waning.

Like an ebbing tide,

drawn back,

turns to gravity,

and returns to root.

We would hear it like a cacophony,

the noise of the human mass,

in stead of the wordless animal sound

 

that the early humans heard behind them.

And gradually forget it,

on our way back to the wilderness,

where we were born,

out there, in the open.

As if summoned by a drum,

to erect statues and cities,

sent human presence to space,

to be called back by a future drum,

sounding again for so long,
that whatever there was in between
is as if we blinked.