It Takes Practice Not To Die - Elizabeth Bartlett

On the caves of time
again they draw their lines
and circles. Earthmen. Born to prove
that they can reason and compute
a way to survive.

Now primitives in space,
they hunt with atom spears
the bright eye targets of the night,
and cry their mammoth victories
across the cosmic waste.

There they create anew
high mysteries and truths,
with satellites as shrines, and wire
the electronic brain they use
to command the light.

Any day now you can expect
the age to come together
in its own fixed image.

There will be no broken glass.
The jigsaw cracks, painted black,
will make a Roualt mirror.

Then we will truly see ourselves
as the headlines say we are,
creatures of disaster.