Each generation, it seems, believes
it may be the last. Revivals, occultism,
wars and revolutions, duck & cover
under your school desk.

Evidence accumulates. Volcanoes
in Iceland. Floods in Montana. Tornadoes
in Massachusetts. Nuclear meltdowns
in Fukishima. The collapse of colonies

of bees. We all end. On a narrow cot
in Santa Fe. In a hospital bed in Minneapolis.
On a beach in Thailand. The prophesied
date of the End Times comes,

and goes, many times, and comes
again. Whether by Rapture, or plague,
or war game catastrophe, it will come.
But it will not be the end of the world.

The world will not end, it will only
change. It will go on without us.
Whether it chooses to or not, whether
or not it grieves, it will go on.