Bottled Bleu

Our bottled selves watching, earth exploding in colourful orange
masked, trapped glassed-in, a pupa, half a bee, muted out
the cobalt blue of her eyes, the tracheotomy hole in her throat,
She holds the planet survivors, as the greys and black envelops,
latex-gloved hands with carrot sticks to beat off the dread, the ghost
of our ancestors pale over the destruction again, future faint sun
ringing in the centuries, pain and glory, lessons unlearned. Stained
rained, strained, preserved in spices of eternity written, unwritten
painted in anguish the story of man, his glory, his downfall – nityatvam.