Geological epochs come and go, we know,
But move at a rate inconceivably slow,
A different temporal space to that in which we grow.
Humankind's time is but a millisecond here.
The new Ice-age is imminent, glaciers are drawing near,
Born of the nuclear winter and fractured atmosphere.
No apres-ski for us, no winter celebration,
You are already dead and gone with much of the population.
Deathly quiet Nations now, deep in hibernation.
Arctic and siberian winds fill the sky,
Fleeing flocks of birds away they fly,
They will not wait to watch us die.
Hypothermia pierces my eye.
Frost penetrates deep within my bones
I am utterly, utterly alone
I take my final agonising, freezing breath
This winter morning has wrought my death.
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Final Winter
Written by Vernicho ( 20 January 2013)
Edited ( 6 April 2013 ) Copyright ( All Rights Reserved )
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Vernicho's Little Book of Oddities
PoetryThis collection will contain longer poems with no set theme. Short stories. Philosophical statements/discussion. General musings. All of my individual madness.
