Before there was history
There was nature—all alone
A stage for appetite
Huge lizards eating everything
When it was time for “the past”
Well, appetites were refined
Eating no longer a sport
Cultivation and lingo
The new tooth and claw
Uncle History is made of such stuff
He’s equal parts hunger and necessity
Though there’s poetry mixed in
Solzhenitsyn said it best:
“The belly is an ungrateful wretch,
It never remembers past favors,
It always wants more tomorrow.”
About tomorrow, Uncle is bewildered…
Planet of the Blind 