A long shot 

The slingshot

To take back what we lost

Who would have thought?

Children run amuck

Oh yuck

why let them ruin 

What we originally sought?

Those who won’t comply

Can go play and cause one another dismay. 

Why?  Because I like things my way. 

A playpen to hold them

Until they understand what we told them. 

Sometimes you must scold them. 

It’s not like we forgot them 

Instead, we taught them

If they don’t wanna come

They can toil in their scum

Maybe they think it’s fun?

A Long Shot

I think too much, and I have to wonder what the probability is that we are the only survivors of the past. If one foundation of love (a couple) ran away from a society riddled with hate and destructive games, what would be the probability if they scrolled all the way back home, that they and their descendants are the only survivors? I believe it is so minuscule that I can’t grasp it as truth.

However, logically if you push the probability of something out as far as it can go say (.000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000001%), then maybe all you need is a hiccup, one little leap, or a wrinkle in time to reclaim perfection or 100%. Maybe a long shot can be precisely planned and executed.

Follow that?

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash