Our attributes helped us excel
In ruling the world where we dwell;
But without these same traits,
We’d not seal our fates
By blowing the whole place to hell.
What a piece of work is a man!….And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?
—Hamlet (Act II, Scene 2)
Determined, he does what he must,
But some acts are not much discussed:
He makes earth combust,
He cannot adjust,
And then he turns back into dust.
[The following collected verses were originally posted in other places.]
There’s not too much longer to wait:
You and I, who’re accepting our fate,
Know it’s over—we’re through;
Let our talk then be true,
For the hour is now getting late.
We’re running into a glitch,
So I hope to learn what I can ditch:
Accept things I can’t change,
Those I can, rearrange,
And the wisdom to know which is which.
If I were to guess where we went
When we go through our final descent:
Acceptance, full scope,
With the loss of all hope
Is a once-in-a-lifetime event.
It won’t matter, whatever you do,
But accepting that doom’s really true—
And there’s nowhere to flee
From the NTHE—
Will alter your whole point of view.
Doom’s going be bad, m’kay?
But it’s natural growth and decay;
So relax and accept,
And try to get prepped,
‘Cause it’s not going to go away.
It's the end of the sapiens' age,
So how will we disengage:
Recognizing the trend
And accepting the end,
Or stuck in the bargaining stage?
If the climate change has evolved
To a problem your mind wants resolved;
Becomes less intense
By accepting it cannot be solved.
Doom’s coming, what should I do?
Do the math, let it in, get a clue,
Get it into your head
We’ll all soon be dead,
Accept that it’s over—we’re through.
No future means we must deal
With so many things doom will reveal,
Means you no longer flee
Or fight with accepting what’s real.
Between different worlds we are swept
While we get mentally prepped;
This weird disconnect
Is what to expect
Cause extinction’s so hard to accept.
Fate’s something we can’t wish away:
Atoms bounce as they must and don’t stray;
We protest or accept
While we’re getting prepped,
But we don’t get to have any say.
Even if physically prepped,
And with skills at which one is adept,
The outlook’s so bleak,
It will make people freak,
So doom takes awhile to accept.
Brain neural pathways require
Certain stimuli to rewire;
Accept that chem preps
Have rate limiting steps,
And each one takes time to transpire.
Accept we’re material dust
In a world neither just nor unjust;
What happens each day
Can be no other way
Because molecules move as they must.
Studying nature explains
The uselessness of our campaigns;
When no fix is left,
We’re completely bereft,
And only acceptance remains.
When we’ve conquered much of our fear,
And accepted the ending is near;
We’ve taken big steps,
But aside from our preps,
Where do we go from here?
Kubler-Ross’s “Five Stages of Grief”
Provides framework that’s simple and brief;
As far as I see,
Acceptance will be
As good as it gets for relief.
Most common, of course, is denial,
For anger, we all can see bile;
A bargaining style,
Some depression awhile,
And acceptance completes our trial.
You know preps will prove ineffective,
And also, that lots of invective
Will be coming your way
If you choose to display
A post-acceptance perspective.
In our world of limits, we rue
Things we did and what we didn’t do;
We'll feel better prepped
The more we accept
The limits inside of us too.
Where to be, is where you accept
That for saving ourselves we’re inept;
As to what you should be,
Many here will agree
That by now you should be largely prepped.
The view of what’s coming’s less blurry,
So we cut down on hurry and scurry;
Having looked at our fear,
Acceptance draws near—
And with it, a time of less worry.
A progress evaluation
Might reflect some good adaptation;
In making that link,
I’d much rather think
It’s acceptance, and not resignation.
We learned a lot during our climb,
Since first we crawled out of the slime;
Now it seems, reader friend,
That accepting our end
Is the main lesson for our time.
Because we’re no smarter than yeast,
It turns out we’ll soon be deceased;
Being old makes one prepped
To more promptly accept:
Any day now, we shall be released.
I’m working real hard to create
A way of accepting our fate;
Pursuing that stuff
Prob’ly won’t help enough,
But it’s something to do while we wait.
I sit on this runaway train
Watching the passing terrain;
There’s not much I can do
But accept doom is true,
And wait for the end of the pain.
Writing is mostly my way
Of coming to terms with dismay,
So the more I accept
And get mentally prepped,
The less, it seems, I’ve got to say.
In the course of becoming awake,
We find things we cannot remake;
Accept, from the trend,
That the world’s going to end,
And the rest’s just a mere piece of cake.
Acceptance allows us to strike
Discomfort from out of our psych;
It’s easy to do
For me and for you—
Except for the things we don’t like.
Here’s a truth which we can’t disavow:
In the end, life is no cat’s meow;
It’s getting quite late
For accepting our fate—
Let me know if you figure out how.