It was the age of memes and every example of a cruel phrase.

"Hit The Dirt, Boomer!"

Litter and trash was everywhere, just lightly covered where it was laid.

Entangled in weeds and chain link spikes to stay.

A keen eye could see it. All over the world. Plastic was hardy and would blow, wash and clump.

In a home, the open box held a shaver top cover. Of no use really. Made to snap over the shaver as a travel feature.

"Would have been best that it were never made."

His wife demanded that it be kept and stored: "You never know, you might need it."

It raised a thought in him: "Could such things be 'unmade'? Never placed in the box at all?"

A speculative thought of inconsequence. Except that reality turned around this unawares soul.

Insiration spoke that secret and laid it in manifest design.

He collected up many useless chattels. Dropped them into his device with a rattle.

Unmade. A craft of object resonance cancelled. Energy unbounded from the physical bounds.

The large energy conversion of matter becoming a slow burn across the life of the object. Searing away the memory of the object across the time dimension.

Only the recorded video of the experiment was left, the items gone from time. Memory of it, bereft.

He rushed the device into the hands of earth advocates.

Ships sailing round to expel man-made flotsams.

Garbage trucks that never deliver, only collect. "Why are these loud trucks always driving around? Why did we pay them in such regularity?"

Once gone, and no memory of it all.

Devices at the bottom of trashcans became the new norm.

Praise was heaped onto the device giver.

Until the trash was dropped into each can. "Why am I standing here? Again? I know I bought this can, why does hold my intractable attentions?"

Large scale devices were applied to brimming landfills. Wonderful meadows stand out lush.

"Dismantle what?" say technical staff. As they return to work in a confused rush.

Locals often cautioned: "Don't go over that way. Unwary residential developers learn it hard, on some days."

The clumsily curious vanish away. Inquisitive souls were short lived in that day.

The devices were built quick and broke anon.

Unexplainable clutter observed in confusion when stumbled upon.

It was the age of memes and distracted dismay.

"I feel like we are missing something. A person, or a thing.

The world is so nice. How are we so unnerved.

Always distracted by an unspoken thought of something.. someone gone?

Rarely any worries for our future, fresh analysis would prove on.

Why were the words of our grandparents.. so sage?

Where are the poets and creators of our age?"