We were in training to be great poets.
Poets that would leave lasting literature.
That's when they told us an asteroid
would hit Earth. And even though
we would probably already be dead
long before it hit, it would still
make our lasting literature transient,
mortal, a scattering of ashes in the winds
of a dying planet. But they did say 10%
would probably survive. They meant people.
And people have memories and memories
come alive in the telling and retelling.
So we returned to our training, significantly
humbled, but slightly hopeful we would be
remembered among the 10%.
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