Death By Sun
Once in a vision that came to me as I dreamed awakeI heard Death speak in an unutterable tone of voice to all humanity
Saying, " why must you come unto me in ceaseless waves generation after generation
Like flailing puppets of chaff trumpeting your tiny kingdoms of babble blindly to the dust
Perpetual pretenders of soul, whilst slaughtering one another and any other convenient species
Unfortunate enough to be confined and bound with you to your finite, much abused sphere,
How long think ye shall the world be made to suffer from the madness of such a scourge?"
And humanity replied to Death. "[. .]"
Hearing only the same sad void it had always known, Death stoically gathered the long slow harvest of eons into a bundle for burial rite,
Whispering in a breath so chill and dread the very Sun was turned to ice...
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2013-08-28 at 00:27
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