From the Verse Essays of Ivar Benløs: The Moral of Immortal Botany

"I suspect that the real moral thinkers end up, wherever they may start, in botany."

"With a spendthrift genius
And an extravagance of care,"
The id turns to botany.
The woods are mounting a dark
Counter strategy out there.
They will retake the human
World and sink their roots through us.

The grasses will be tougher.
Woods can only surround them
And wait for the continents
To regather in a way
Configured to favor trees.
This will be after we're gone
Likely leaving no offspring,

Not one descendant species,
Thus mercifully ending
This brief planet of the apes.
What will remain are mountains
Cut, scored, and excavated,
Along with a layer crammed
With the sort of rich rubbish,

Plastics and metals and oil,
Some species will specialize
In converting to fresh loam
For the rooted bark giants
To draw up through woody straws.
The id is contemplative
In a way that the ego

Can only watch and admire.
Beasts know their role in changing
One era for another.
Egos search for transcendence
Of egoic existence.
Trees search out means to return.
Change, nothing, conquest: success.