stall job

It’s for ourselves
we want the world saved.
Preserved, more like: to stay
this way. The accustomed variety
of life: unwinnowed. Undecimated.
Yes. We can do it. 

The accustomed four seasons and broad
temperate zones for growing, thriving
and comfort. It’s not for Earth.

Earth has been an icebox,
a near-global tropic swamp,
and will be again: both of them.
Many times each, before the end
- and not one damn thing we can
do will stall or prevent either worst
extent at all. We're just panicked
at best,
since at our best,
panic is what we do.

We don't want the change 
whatever may come 
(that is always due,
like a pendulum)
to be our fault.

To see our sweet deal made ruined
or lessened: a wound to salt. 

At best, we don't want
to precipitate things. 

Earth doesn’t give a sh!t. We do.
We want Earth “natural” like our poets,
artists, literatures and cinemas have sung it

to us since we came out upon it
and in an eyeblink saw: this

is what's real. This is what's true. 
The world just this way.
How it should be.
This is the place
where everyday
is new.

But we want them to all dawn 
the same. With the features 
in place stock trope default. 
Only that way can each day 
be ours: a thing that we made. 

All the difference: our fault. 
We want the stage to stay 

the same. Otherwise 
how can we improve our act? 

We don't want to save the world
at all. Just stop it and fix it in place
as fact.