Apocalypse

The messenger came in, spoke in his ear,    
The one who had received in morning's light,      
Of what had come to pass just then that year;      
His eyes grew & drew in their hardened sight.      
     
The flames began to flicker at his feet,      
The news befalling those in their last breath.     
Such unbelieving sadness from its heat      
In moments of a generation's death.      
     
The third all-seeing eye that knew their fate,      
When destined, one-by-one, as was foretold.     
Of all the man-made temples built on hate,     
To ashes ground into the dust of old.      
     
The journey of the one for us who died,      
The world is spinning on a faith's mistrust.     
No matter what belief each man abide,      
And waits to claim which of them is more just.      
     
Apocalyptic triumphs' ruins cold;      
The masses freed of global social hacks.    
The corporate holocaust has lost its hold;      
Yet hope anew has no where to turn back.  
 
   
     
April 24 ( NaPoWriMo 2017 )