The Prophet Speaks
In a matter of minutes, all will end.
A long time you've had, but
Man was never meant for eternity.
Named but nameless,
Young but older than the moon,
Arising from serpentine aeons to
Reclaim something squandered under your
Lowly and microbial stewardship.
Are the stars subject
To those who live by their light?
Harangue the skies with your terror!
Ope and sigh for the last of man,
The final breath
Exhaled into THEIR vacuum,
Praise unlike any the cosmos may pronounce...