End of Days

I woke in the night
  into a dream
and look, see, I saw
  a valley full of blood rising,
    flowing up and down the mountainsides. 
Death's shadow collided
  with fiery light,
    dancing across across the crimson waste.
And a weird moon reddish descended
  like a clock hand, quick to the eye,
   and fell into the scarlet sea.
And the crash made a mighty gush,
  the thick droplets ascending
    to be new stars in a gory heaven.
The white stars had all burnt out,
  their ashes leave a blackened night.
The sun tried the old Eastern road,
  but some doomed guardian guards the way.
It grabbed that King of Day,
  ended his last dawn.
Great was the fall of the morning light;
  fire consumes the place he lays,
    lights up a burning horizon.
The mountains climb into the sea
  while the blood steams up clouds of red smoke
    that change the hue of the sky.
Blood and fire rule the ruined world,
a grave of bones and home to the old,
  wretched, twisted, ancient things.

Featured image: ‘Apocalypse,’ by Albert Goodwin (1903), image in the public domain.

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2 thoughts on “End of Days”

  1. Wow! That smacks of what is just about to happen! Iā€™m so grateful that on the other side of it all the lion will lie down with the lamb and Christ will reign as King from Jerusalem. Thank you for this poem, and all your writing, Sweet Courage.

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