#321 The World’s Great Finale Poem by Jimmie Arrington

The trees that keep the kingdom penned
Have met a harsh and bitter end.
Wild flames and dense smoke ascend
With ashes, softly upon the wind.
As I watch safely from a hill.
The river that comes drifting through
Is no longer a clear, shimmering blue.
Now the water’s as dark as brew
And thicker than an Irish stew,
But my soul is calm and still.

The moon dangling in the midnight sky
Is as red as blood in the dragon’s eye.
The heavy clouds have begun to cry
Tears of a waterfall in mid-July.
As I observe the scene unalarmed.
This was once a great and prosperous land,
Ruled by a royal and honest command.
Now the castle crumbles as if made of sand,
Such beauty with such destruction at hand,
But I stay settled here unharmed.

The market is a blurred, chaotic place,
People scurry with terror on their face.
The streets host a violent rat race
And harmony is gone without a trace.
Here is the world’s great finale.
Thunder shakes the earth’s firm shell
And lightning whips and I hear a knell,
In the distance tolls that ghastly bell,
But I’m not worried, all is well,
You’re seated soundly here with me.