The End Of Time Poem by James Papastamos

Our Heavens cried, its tears grew wise
the farther from her lonely eyes
For once upon such sinful land
they'd wash on shores that spelled white lies

God laid His hand, its thunders spilled
through valleys narrow as our will
His fist to cradle then and now
our time mis-spent, He timed its flow

A heavenly breeze to whisper near
its scent of autumn brought much fear
As winter drew, its chill ran deep
the end of time forced us to sleep