Monday, January 14, 2008

Gentle Apocalypse

there was a curious peace,
a transcendence of faith
which occurred
possibly in my bloodstream
as i stood overlooking
the valley flooded in
heaving molten.

the eruption's initial response
had been one of awe and
even cheers--
i alone seemed to recognize
at once
the ending which the smoking
bowels
heralded.

but somehow this knowledge
perfected the hours
between now and then;
when i tried unsuccessfully
to reach my loved ones
through liquified wires
(disconnected or no longer in use)
i was not sorry, only
counting the hours before our
exalted reunion,
purified in fire.

and as i and others--strangers, all--
mounted higher with the gradually
rising tide,
the red ocean seemed to bubble
not out of malice, or even
menace,
but merely with the messenger's
bittersweet acceptance.

four hours, by my guess,
until i meet my God.

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