Copenhagen

In a bowl of water, collected from the springs
Nostradamus foresaw us.
With predictions centered around disasters
he saw many ends to this world
But nothing as clear as what I see today
when I look at the rising sea and thinning rivers.
Rivers, once ribbons wrapped around us
are now, the precarious threads holding our lives.
Agreed that worlds end everyday
in instances of news-making explosions.
But what 'might' lay in store
is death by entrapment.
It might not be at the door step
but I can hear the elevator coming up.
I know I can jump off and end it, once and for all
Would that be a good enough fight for survival?
Will I be that weakling in Darwin's index?
Crushed under the cold feet of betterment?

I believe in might
'Might' has a mighty hope.
That could save me from being
the boiling primordial soup.