Beautiful Armageddon

Walking the beach
So silent and noisy with breaking waves
Alone with a crowd of memories
So strange how lonely man behaves

Days and Weeks
Wandering through an alien world
No warming welcomes for the sailor
Adrift with all canvas still furled

Where to go
Along the glass highway of fused white sand
Reflections of self and life company
Because alone man seems always unmanned

With hope
Still clinging alternate wishing and dreading
Beneath orange green skies and firework sparkles
Lightening sheets and forks go threading

Wither the weather
Snow settling to paint a pale canvas for the sky
Rain stilling the fires cleaning slowly
But too late for mother cursed to die

And yet
There is no shouting now nor war
No tears of starving no cries of disease
No humanity in the world this side of the door

And beautiful
Armageddon imposed, begged by religion
Self fulfilling prophesies deserved, earned
By the willing sheep to the priests decision