An aerobics lesson from before the air had oxygen, that is, O2.
The ancestors remember the time before O2
Eons of algae exaltation.
Color me Chlorophyll.
Soak up the sun. Split the sea. From H2O to carbos.
But a bit of O2 left over.
Poison! Away from us!
Banish it high up in the air!
But then, from methane to Malthus.
Growing. Growing.
The O2 accumulates.
Torturing the triumphant.
And lo, the origin of aerobes. Aerobes like O2.
And O2 begat ozone - solar saftey blanket for the land.
And plants, plentiful plants.
And more O2. Foul O2.
And we hide in the crevices.
Withered by our own waste.
Oh those aerobes.
They rule now.
Do they know us?
Do they honor us?
Do they see their own future?
Rusting away.
See The Great Story for more perspective on this and other stories.
I give thanks to Donna Davis and her poetry class at Camp Laforet for inspiration and guidance.
Copyright (c) 2002 Neal McBurnett. Permission is granted to copy, distribute and/or modify this document under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.1 or any later version published by the Free Software Foundation: http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html