HARARI
the grasses
of the meadows
shall feed us
no more
savannah hunter-gatherer
no more
child of exodus
waiting impatiently upon
promised manna
spores
from a far
flung star
holding the germ of a
far-flung idea
fit
for
purpose
unless
off the track did deviate
as to
what
we were, aee
made of
who
we are
poems 2 die for 