Beautiful Apocalypse Poem by Keith Horton

And if the old oak in the yard

should never again blossom life

and cede its soil for a bed of death;

if the sea shone mirror-like

without hint of a ripple;

its tide lost, in the breath of a burgundy dawn.

If the sun should collapse in the zenith sky

and spew fiery rains of indignation,

or if the rosebuds lost forever,

Their ambition to bloom;

and grew inclined to ignore springs whispers.

If the midnight sky—

with its thousand points of light

turned aphotic, as it swallowed the moon.

If the Earth dared to shed her chimera of calm,

opened up, and belched hell to her surface,

and creation was raised to the heavens

and all things were made to face truth,

standing amidst the rubble, unscathed,

is love

impervious love


© 2012 Keith Horton