Monday, April 1, 2024

Meanwhile, Lives Tick Over Regularly

One kind of Apocalypse
Rushes after another,
Flood or fire. It’s tradition,

And not of one religion.
Everyone has their vision.
No one runs out of new ones.

The glory of God rises,
Promise climatologists,
When the sea that is right now

Will be filled by fresh waters
That cover that sea. Long time
It’s been since there was no ice,

Maybe a longer time still
Until there is ice again.

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