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Eschaton

Timothy W. T. Belin

You watch as heavens start to cry,

Their torrid tears descend in scores

From clouds invading once bright skies

To paint new shadows ‘cross the shores.

 

You feel the winds from lands unknown

That blow away all hopes of life

As grounds disperse their fiery stone

And cause your kin incessant strife.

 

It’s Mother Nature raising hell

To raze the human race with rage;

Oft prophesied, here comes the knell

Of what you thought Earth’s golden age.

 

The oceans rise with famished waves,

The mountains vanish in the seas,

Transforming cities into graves,

Erasing selfish centuries.

 

Within this wicked plight you stand

As all in instants turns to rust

And wonder whether works of Man

Were really only specks of dust.

Fall, 2019 Issue