Of Age

Coming time
Of all seconds past
And folded so for each one
Future so far
Humans no longer called so
Language as old as stars
And spoken same respect as comparison.
No hate
No death
No plague
No fate
As fear is forgotten, aeons old
Technology here a word grasped
And known at birth.
Beyond it
Horizons creased
All is predicted
Universes known and not mapped
But memorized
Atoms thrown with precision
Anything fashioned
A time so far
Death does not exist
And we live forever
In bodies made by ourselves.
Orchestras of centuries, a song so perfected
Science not respected but understood
In a world so mapped, so far from here
We know everything, so nothing at all.