Wednesday, 24 April 2013

After The Angry Sun

He would lay his hands on them, one day,
He would hold them and caress them,
And that would be enough for now
People had spoken of them, the elders, but no one could remember
When last they saw them.

That had been the problem, 
For all the World's words and all the photos,
All the music and all the knowledge of the planet had been
Stored as binary: on chips, on phones, on tablets.

So when the Sun grew angry and sent the solar storm earthwards.

Nothing was left of the memories
Except those,
The books,
They were out there somewhere and he would find them.



bobby stevenson  2013

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