musée

i think of the flood
and the God who found need for it a mere eight chapters after there was light.
his certainty we’d keep faith even knowing we’d once been drowned;
of the gravity of those sins (censored) demanding our extermination (explicit.)

i think of the flood and the men who recorded it then;
a mass mercy killing at the hand of the all-righteous.
his singular solution set in a foreground of choicelessness,
framed by curtains of irredeemability, of future promise.

i think of God establishing a covenant never to destroy all life again
by flood,
an immaterial concession,
his chest full, his fingers crossed,
his strategy ripe for the mimicking.

and i think of those record keeper's ancestors,
how they're documenting our time right now.
whose unimpeachable evils they're scrying can be excised in no other way
whose absolutely necessary evolutionary era have i found myself born into

reading the history books eons from here
they'll be satisfied -
the good guy definitely won out in the end, that's for sure,
but 
they're all damn glad they weren't around to have to survive it.