Perilous are the mothers wailing uncharted water
With their daughters, and merciless are the fathers
Fighting pointless wars at the cardinal-red sky,
Launching doomsday javelins with their frightened sons.
Nature cries, and so do the countless I love you's
Spoken in quivers by the billions. O the tender howls,
Beating breasts brought upon by the vast throwing emotions.
Less for fathers and sons, but more for the mothers and daughters.
It is, in its entirely, by emotion; it is too much to bare in this
Evil, hideous place. Had it been long overdue in this century
For both the Good and Deviant, the Second Advent to come?
A haversack of God, it approaches like rat catchers
Enveloped in snow. No, the blind fathers and sons supposed,
It was the headless devotion to emotion by the world at large,
The frustration of unhandling the profusion of said emotion,
And the wrong we should not have done with the restlessness of
It, like fork-tailed rivers colored bloody passing through sad cities,
And therefore comes our ascension and descension to Heaven and Hell.
Emotion, emotion. The World, it was known, was on the cusp
Of ending in these shrieks-burning false-hearted prostitutes
In a naked-blue blaze, rising nations and kingdoms against
Other nations and kingdoms, salting the earth and showering hail-
But the holy epistles never spoke much of this! The angels dance
At us, and the rosy-pink cherubim and seraphim sing at us,
Almost mockingly. This is no Rapture; it is only emotion!
How much would it cost for them to give guidance to
A modern prophet lit in light and then later to God,
If there is one? We had desired to heed the advice, a last
Imploring of emotion, another lament of an otherwise great capacity
To exalt the suppression of the end of the World-
And the ascension and descension brought by emotion.
Humanity must not lay into the feeling. It is for too early
For an ending to begin what is of nothing, of nothing,
And of nothing at all.
