clouds are splashed across a turquoise sky,

like gestures of a transformed world, 

-a world to us unknown-

or spectral bands by ghostly hands,

heralding a new dawned age, 

beyond the age of man,

and once we’re gone, 

then who will care, 

it cannot be our gods,

for they are frail and changing things, 

born of desperate minds,

the universe grown conscious, 

but of itself afraid,

that became a force of nature, 

but now the force is spent;

Philosophy has failed us, 

the Enlightenment was slain,

and now, on the near horizon, 

darker clouds appear,

from which there flash the warnings,

with thunderous cannon shots,

that shake the world’s foundations, 

long crumbling into dust.