A Lost World Hypothesis

By Andrew R. Duckworth

In a book a long time ago
There was a hypothesis
That perhaps an isolated area
Held things of old,
Preserved from dangers elsewhere,
Still living, still thriving, unaware
Of our existence here.

And we’ve explored,
Not everywhere, but enough.
No creatures of the distant past
Were built to last.

In reality,
Humanity is everywhere.
We don’t go looking for others
But we find them on occasion.
Yet, we’re so lost
We think we’re found
And wield dangerous tools
Like a child waving a machete,
Not realizing what is shiny is sharp.
One day, I expect we’ll sever our limbs
Because we love to rule the day
In our lost world.
We started once and never stopped
On the almighty race of ‘progress.’
We don’t understand
What we don’t understand,
And, until we lose a hand,
We’ll still be swinging that machete,
Because we do first and think later.

Perhaps the best of us
Will find isolation
And when the future comes searching,
We will be smart enough, wise enough,
To hide.