Once upon a time, an Old Man was bored;
He conjured up a world where life was stored
In wet, densely packed lumps of grayish clay.
The sun he too made; "Now this is the day."
The Earth itself he called up from the depths,
And with his greasy sweat, painted its breadths.
He made the Buzzard who carved the rivers,
Sticks for arrows, and leather for quivers,
All The Universe sprang forth from his hands-
Oh, Enignorio, Maker of lands!
Maker of Yourself! From man to a God!
Designer of all things, narrow or broad!
Oh Doctor! Doctor! Good and evil mind!
I've been looking for you, trying to find
How one survives your sorrowful disgrace-
When the sky rips open, and in falls space!
When stars trickle down, like Midnight rain,
When water dries out, and in floods pain,
The sky a mixture of You, light and dark.
Why do you let the hunter **** the lark?
Not for its meat, but for game and for sport?
Evil exists to more easily sort
Good from bad, no story without challenge.
Soon comes the morning, the sky burns orange;
Is it the Sun- or nuclear fallout?
"Like You, man has made himself god!" I shout!
Can you hear me, God? I know my ask is tall;
Guide my hand, Doctor, help me stave off Starfall.
Feb 4
Feb 4, 2026 at 3:24 PM UTC
Once upon a time, an Old Man was bored;
He conjured up a world where life was stored
In wet, densely packed lumps of grayish clay.
The sun he too made; "Now this is the day."
The Earth itself he called up from the depths,
And with his greasy sweat, painted its breadths.
He made the Buzzard who carved the rivers,
Sticks for arrows, and leather for quivers,
All The Universe sprang forth from his hands-
Oh, Enignorio, Maker of lands!
Maker of Yourself! From man to a God!
Designer of all things, narrow or broad!
Oh Doctor! Doctor! Good and evil mind!
I've been looking for you, trying to find
How one survives your sorrowful disgrace-
When the sky rips open, and in falls space!
When stars trickle down, like Midnight rain,
When water dries out, and in floods pain,
The sky a mixture of You, light and dark.
Why do you let the hunter **** the lark?
Not for its meat, but for game and for sport?
Evil exists to more easily sort
Good from bad, no story without challenge.
Soon comes the morning, the sky burns orange;
Is it the Sun- or nuclear fallout?
"Like You, man has made himself god!" I shout!
Can you hear me, God? I know my ask is tall;
Guide my hand, Doctor, help me stave off Starfall.
Based on Native American creation stories. A tale of my fears of where we are heading. Nuclear apocalypse is scary. And possible. When the Natives started to lose everything, there was a freak event where thousands of shooting stars lit up the American continent. I picture the same thing, but missiles. A sky alight with nuclear fire. I pray we avoid that fate.
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