Someday

A wingéd shadow, a frozen spark
Which hovers, blood-red in the dark
And cold infusion doled deftly out
Like poison from an iron spout
Are all crawling into the hearts
Of Mother Earth's infinite parts.
Black like rainstorm, black like soot
Paints itself up Heaven's roots
And bleeds into the trunk contained
By Serpent, sea, and mountain range;
And above the raging Eagle calls
Down to the Dragon and his thralls.
But it is Man who kills the Tree,
Not Wildfire or His progeny,
And no end of Sun nor death of Moon
Outweighs the Demon Singer's tune.
Plunging swords into the ground,
The plague of Man falls all around;
Pestilence from steam and steel
Breaks a spoke off of the wheel.
The chemical rain, the world of dust
Compels all joyous life to bust,
And into the gutters of death it flows
As nuclear winter exhales its snow.
A desert pierced by great syringes
Withers a world about the fringes
And burns its sky and parches minds
That some cool shade do hope to find.
Missiles fired from flying ships
Tighten the Horsemen's titan-grip,
And oceans filled with slime and oil
Bring the blood of God to boil.

Ofttimes I think of coming days
And other worlds far, far away,
And their eyes that see (without a doubt)
A pale blue light, at last, go out.