foundations rattling like a ziploc half-full of teeth, streets look like
crags and mountain peaks? Where people don't walk, they can only climb,
preoccupied with the hustle, the hardship, the prison of the mind?
The boom, the blast will be too big to be heard, likely we won't know
when it's time, there will be no words broadcasts will be terminated,
pictures lost behind the glass, perpetually frightened that the next
breath will be the last.
No heights to be reached, no more wealth to gain, no cost for selfish
thoughts to further a name, cause the world is gonna explode in a fiery
blaze, to raze the land from the demon's hand and banish him to his
Where will the children gather then, their playtime arrested, their
happiness removed, their future ingested, carrying the seeds of hope for
an unmarked cemetery of blackened dust and smoking incendiary?
The world WILL explode, and only God knows which path will open, who
will walk which road, the chosen few, the forsaken mass, but the last
shall be first and the first shall be last. The world WILL explode, but
here is the key: I can live for Christ because He died for me.
Marcelle D. Ward