A wormhole sits before me. Why now?
Like a cheat code begging to be used,
a portal to any time and space
but of all the times to appear, somehow,
it managed to choose me, on this year.
So as the human race faces extinction
I stare, longingly, into a way out,
selfishly wondering where I should go,
suddenly freed of the rat race forever,
almost laughing at the irony of this.
Perhaps I’ll go stab Hitler in the eye
a thousand times, or at least try,
or maybe punch Columbus in the mouth
and send him off to somewhere south.
The world, on its last legs, is mine.
I suppose this is a chance to save it.
Everything that will soon die
could be rewound, without a sound.
Will I even exist, then, if I do?
But who cares if it’s soon to end?
I can return to the moment the end began,
tracking it to its God-forsaken roots
and chopping them up, viciously
carving away at the greed.
But where would I even start?
Can one man, gifted with hindsight,
possibly undo every mistake,
every fake smile and blatant lie
that will soon have our world die?
Doubtful. At the very least, not I.
I miss my parents. This could be a chance
to return to them, to request a dance
with my mother that I never gave
and thank her for watching me grow.
What should I say? I do not know.
How do you explain to the past
that the present must never happen?
How can one man on the last day
suddenly make everything okay?
I wish this weren’t me, now.
Perhaps I may as well visit the future
in which all of humanity is dead.
I wonder what new life will rise
in our stead, free of our foolishness.
Will they, like me, find a wormhole here?
Or will it be a thoughtless, thankless void
waiting to laugh at me
in the moment that I see the end,
with neither family nor friends
because I left them behind.
Nay. Like a captain on his ship,
I may as well remain and abstain
from even trying to escape.
I, too, was an unwilling part of this.
Gladly, I shall accept Death’s kiss.