When the world ends,
All words will be said,
All deeds will be left undone,
By none others than those who led.
Our kindness misunderstood,
Discarded as something so easily sold.
A beggar stands shaking in the cold,
What if he were someone good?
A poet in the rain,
Feeling no closer to home,
The road ahead filled with disdain,
Of those whose house he called home.
Rain turns to snow upon a solitary grave.
If you want sand to flow,
Then for you it shall flow.
A belief in what’s real is not enough.
When the throne of Zion empty will lay,
Then a final struggle will ensue.
But when the throne is empty, empty it shall stay.
The victory would be pointless,
For by morning all we worked for will be destroyed,
By noon all we have hoped for will be achieved,
By evening our very lives will be cherished,
And by nightfall all our problems will be solved.
And the last person shall stand and observe,
Dead bodies of men whom he used to serve,
He clutches the phylactery with his last breath and speaks,
“We were wrong” and his soul from his body leaks…