Lo, it is almost here at last!
Earth's bowel has burst,
Her muds heave apart.
Not science, not art
Can draw near its teethed-hollow,
Or needle down the tumult to follow.
On Event's two cardinal points,
The wind teeters the joints;
The bearing ignores the raging storm,
The rolling din muffles the thunderstorm.
when the fowl entraps the fowler,
The trigger locks, the barrel cannot sound;
Let men drive in a stroller
Their excuses, their problems abound.
Where locusts plough a field,
Starvation is oft the plentiful yield.
Bats soon shall quit the dark
To give men a damnating mark,
Men filthy with stubborn stains.
The sea shall bleed from the pains -
Its mouth glowing with blood - of whoever
Shall to death submit to live forever.
Though the Light had claimed the torch-bearers,
He shall claim they who starred as sufferers
Of Earth's purgative eruption,
While the bats prevail unto destruction...
This end shall herald another beginning
Where soundness shall be reigning.
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