they say it will
all end
in a fiery supernova
millions of years
from now.

they say it will
all end
with angel choirs
and righteous wrathful indignation.

mountains will rise up
and then crumble into valleys
and the very Earth
will tremble and crack,
seep molten blood.

rivers will dry up
in their beds
and the very Sea
will be a roiling boil of agony,
will beg for mercy.

or so they say.

signs of the apocalypse
are everywhere:

in the bottom of every...

teacup.

glaring from the front pages of every...

tabloid.

it's laughable.

meteors, viruses,
tectonic shifts and red giants.

rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief...

reminds me of silly childhood
nonsense.

so what'll it be?

doctor, lawyer, Indian chief

Armageddon?
The End?
Supernova?

i try not to worry about it;
chances are,
i'll be dead and moldering
by the time it rolls around.

'don't panic.'

words to live by.

The End?

my end will come long before the big one.
there's no such thing for me...

...but then,
my pen runs out of ink...

...and there is.