Apocalypse

You will know it’s getting near
by the symphony of the stars,
once a sleepy cloud of lullaby,
now a rage of dragon’s breath
against the dying light.

You will know it’s getting near
when guilt forces its way violently
into consciousness,
numbing every crumb of faith and hope.
It made Him weep of blood and oil.

Bloody wars, subway bombs,
walls of revolted waves and boiling cones.
You will know it’s getting near.
Horned megalomaniacs slither on our streets.
And the symphony of the stars’
charred notes wail close at night.
A thousand hearts beat like ticking clocks.
You know it’s getting near.