Will the ground on this morrow, split open yawning wide?
Will the tides erode these foundations so the nations all collide?
Have we dawned our last golden gleam and brand new day?
Is the solid earth, air to breathe, and sky all to fall away?
Here, betwixt you and I, I say ,"No not nearly nigh!"
Will the Moon leave her mate to wonder these cosmos alone?
Are the seasons so fickle to resign, are they betrayal prone?
Will the Stars abandon their long vigilant posts?
Trees bend like matchsticks curled black across each coast?
I do say, there will come a Day. But no Man will know the place in time.
The Sun will Say "I've given up all light I've got."
"This lonely Rock about my midst is a blight and full of rot"
The Doom will come, of this I'm doubtless, resolutely sure.
So find your trousers mind your Maker…. He alone knows each soul that is secure.