The End Is Near Poem by Edwin Robinette

The sign hung loosely around his neck,
draping him with a cardboard tunic
that read......'The End Is Near'

Was this man a prodigal son,
passed on from days
when old prophets
had turbulent eyes and dusty beards?

Does he hold key knowledge
of the ancient ones,
who once chanted their majestic words
from upon a stone pedestal?

Or, is he just some lunatic
on the unbalanced end
of a Libran scale?

The end shall tell