That crackle,
Outdoor spark,
Hear it move,
Here it out there,
In the dark.
Dancing,
This orb of melted obsidian glass,
Full of hissing,
Escaped,
Fiery igniting rash,
Hurting,
Perhaps,
Like so much of the past.
But it moves,
And it shakes,
Quakes that which has no base.
It has enough power,
Perhaps,
To undo that which has passed,
And ignite,
Sky,
With crackling rage and chaos race,
Undo all that has been done,
And see the skylight white as one.
If the apocalypse must come,
Then let it be something,
Wholly,
Beautifully,
Cackling insanely.
Let a flash end that which man has built.
And rise dark then a star,
That had been there,
Shining down on every moment,
Of inspired madness.
Let it spark and shift power through,
And gone to nothing at all.
Let it be just everything,
And just unending,
And let the sky flay,
Until blood drowns,
Whatever played and fought and grew,
And with this darkest star,
See us reflected,
And let us never once find the altered truth.
—
Special thanks to: Bob Gerkin, Collin Pearman, Dylan Alexander, Jerry Banfield, and Michael The Comic Nerd.
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Want to read something longer by me? How about a whole novel!