by Speaker for the Dead
‘Tis the end of the world
Shout the prophets with despair
Others state with a sorrowful glare:
We cannot survive,
When the land comes alive!
The skies begin to sear
As the fires appear
Upon the land
Death stalks like a great hand
The gates of fire arise
Bringing forth horrendous cries
But a glimmer
A beautiful white shimmer
Of hope and love
Settles like a dove
Among the flame
Driving it back to the pit of which it came
Saved are the souls of Men
Into paradise they fly, by the ten
As the world is reborn
Recreated from the Chaos from which it was torn
People remade
The Seeds of Life relaid
As the Angels fly above the land
Singing praises of the saving Hand.