Red smokes still come from those matchboxes, 

Men kill, men see. 

Thousands of years later there will be a rock concert here, 

people will loose stars in their hair…

And then these patches of fraction spirituality will rise, 

the redemption, the burial of barbaric brutality. 

Lights left their body…

A roller over lanterns of gutted nebula. 

Heated and indented rocks over palpating grasses today, 

but we will bring wine and honey for you one day…

Till then let the art and the creativity and the quantum physics suffer humanity.