These Clichés Won't Get Us Out Of This One. Poem by Paul Brookes

When did we presume to move mountains?
drilling stone, stripped to the bone.
Terra is not so Firma anymore.

we little deities, false failing prophets,
magnifying merits,
we preen, we thinking apes,
imagination not limited
faster, higher, brighter we build.

our legacy, puny beings that we are,
is self destruction.

Olympus and Valhalla fall
engulfed in fire and flood.

Listen you can hear the universe laughing,
the jokes it seems is on us.

Deliberate use of cliche. Yeah what you going to do,