The Shape Of (Things to Come)

Authored: April 10, 2025

I woke up last night, in a panic
There was a panic so deeply entrenched
Awoken from a dream that scared me awake
I shook, I sweated and gasped for breath
There was fear within me
So potent and so fluid.

Around me, silence, the depths of the night
Night lights played on my bedroom walls
The Stars shun, the Moon had risen
Trepidation took hold of my soul
I sat up on the end of my bed, my hands held my face
And I wept.

I saw the End, the finality play out
The screams of billions
Turning into whimpers and then infinity's silence
There was a solemn finality
The mourning winds of a wounded Earth
Over brittle irradiated bones
Skulls forever looking up at an uncaring heaven.

Closing my eyes, lost in a detail
The shape of things to come
The collapse that would come quickly
Late-stage Capitalistic pain
The fall, the depravity, the calamity.

There was no more going to bed.

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