Two and a half billion years ago I started thinking.
And just 40 years ago my lost father stopped his drinking.
Today? I sit through cold winds and wet rains, waiting for her,
All three hers, and they waiting for me, nestled in a warm fur.

Just 60 Million years ago the earth groaned, and my first She
Touched the first tree, an ashen trunk from the first stone bombs of He
Who sits on high. A way prepared, until I stood here, half drunk
On my own pain. What future waits my daughters who scale the trunk?

Ten years I’ve written a world apart from this, an escape hatch
Not just for me, but for hundreds who elude the garbage patch
And Twelve years she’s put up with me, I hope all three she’s will see
That despite the mud of dead centuries, I live peaceably.

I dream of a future, one all 3 shes can enjoy, and that fears
Mature, and carry the weight of 2 and a half billion years.