by J. Randal Matheny, © 2012, Cloudburst Poetry

In wings and walls fine cracks appear,
In time grow weak the hands and feet;
The wear and wrinkles spread by year,
And dangers breed within the street.

The world is winding down as well,
Its groans portend its slow demise;
Its plates go sliding into hell,
As oceans boil, creation dies.

The faithless scorn the signs of stress,
Proclaim that human muscle grows,
In face of failure, tout success,
Ignore what every student knows.

Though death and downfall hover near,
And mountains shake, the masses stay
Their petty course, from pounding fear,
Refusing to seek their God and pray.

Of man a remnant God will save:
Those who for his justice strive
Will not descend to Satan’s grave —
By heaven’s hand will I survive.

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beachnightNOTE: This essay was published 5 July 2000, when I was a columnist for the now-defunct Morrock News Digest. I’m posting it here for a few readers to enjoy.

A working trip swept me away from home for over a week, but briefly a moment appeared to watch the moon rise from the Atlantic Ocean at 10 p.m. and fight with the clouds to find his space in the sky. The wind caressed our faces after the hot trip to oceanside. The sand forgave our imposition and welcomed us to sit facing the horizon that disappeared in the dark. Continue reading