Morning has come again,
Bringing with it drops of renewal.
So small, yet so significant.
They drape over the soft blades of grass,
As is their ritual.
The sun has risen,
Surrounded by wisps of whiteness,
Mere figments of the imagination.
Expectant eyes are drawn to the image
Of heaven suspended in a tranquil sky.
All are at peace, for they know
Their stars are safe,
Tucked away in the pockets of the universe.
But soon, this peaceful routine
Will turn to ashes.
The sky will collapse,
Taking with it any hope of future generations.
All will stand
Mystified by the beautiful tragedy that befalls them.
The earth will tremble and swallow up the fear
Of what may have been.
Mountains will collide;
Oceans will torture the shores.
Mankind will be rendered helpless.
Sacrifices will be avenged;
The dead will bury the dead.
Everything that was meant to
Will be.
Sense will be made out of
Nonsense.
The wound that has become this world
Will finally be tended to.
Angels will carve the stone that bears the name
Of a society succumbed to temptation,
And they will weep.
All that’s left to do is
Walk away.
May
the
world
rest
in
peace
