Let It Go

At some, unspecifiable
Something or another, the time
For being overly impressed
With those far distant days and nights

Is done. Their heroes weren't so bright,
Their dictator literature
(Ahem, "wisdom literature")
Was mostly dim or atrocious.

"You should not buy an onager,
It only lasts until day's end,
And don't have sex with your slave girl,
She will chew you up." Oh, culture,

Like the lives it preoccupies
Took some time complexifying,
And the age of bacteria
Will never end for either one.

The simplest concepts must digest
The food of the most capacious
Appetites. Dinosaurs, that crust
Of flattened aeons between stones,

Are gone. The bugs that bothered them
Still bother our onagers' guts.