Earth before us, and after
without planes overhead; no buildings, no cars
a tornado rolling around tall golden grass
or a tsunami piling onto an expanse of sand
no one to run or shelter from the churn and froth
sometimes I feel an acceptance in my bones, like no need to hurry, it’s okay
those moments I’m aware of the tectonic plates beneath me on this rotating rock in expanding space
let everything move and stretch, I think, and I’ll be here for however long, nestled impossibly on this place without a name