Voices on the Wind
by James F. Gaines
A gathering apocalypse
Ignites the long electric night.
Write your books, shining boy!
The glow of your words
Winks out in the waxing wind.
Burn the last candles!
Hereafter the darkness
Completes centuries of human passion.
Its final glimmer
Dies on the planetís curve, weary,
And the great reconcentration begins.
Before the viking flash of Ragnarok
Comes the Fimbul Winter,
Season of ever denser ices.
Violence flares in snarling titan wolves,
Howling giants stirring below;
Manís future is lost.
Gold we mistook for redemption
Seeps back into the Dragonís cavern,
Where the exterminating miser,
Rapture-driven in the treasureís gulf,
Savors unsettled debts,
Ecstasy in the vast unborn.
We his lunatic eunuchs
Are giantsí children screaming,
Sliding down his scarlet throat.
Will two survive hidden
In the core of a blasted tree?
Who can say?
The fatesí tangled web stretches
Dimly beyond all knowing.