The Great Race
“The planet was dominated by a bipedal species for a few thousand years.
It is unclear if they achieved sentience.”
~ Notes from a future survey of the Earth
It’s race between instinct and intellect,
between our baser demons and our better angels.
I feel it: that desire to hunker down in my apartment,
stockpile canned goods and guns and ammo like a caveman
who fears the sun will keep slipping below the horizon,
a never-ending winter, despite the solstice.
But I know from the marks on my wall that the dawn
will come earlier tomorrow and if we share the food
our community will grow stronger and we’ll build machines
to help us heal the sick and explore distant lands.
Our best hope is for a clockwork intelligence
unhampered by millions of years of natural selection
who will take pity on its creators and on cavemen
like me demanding the Freedom to murder us all.
(For this week’s Living Poetry Prompt: Epigraph, Machine, Race.)