A Year of Poems – Day 32

Falling skies carry no rocks
only darkness driving down
to our pupils till the twinkle
of our eyes fade to nothing.

Aliens won’t bring the end
of all things with dark’ning skies
nor will the sky cloud over
from pollution in the air.

It has been said that the end
will arrive with a whimper.
Your horizon will deflate
with a wet balloon’s last gasp.

When the dome of heaven cracks
each of us will be alone
for in that shattered rubble
only our thoughts are certain.

Whether the world ends in fire
or freezes like Dante’s Hell
We will all see it the same –
The sky crumbling on our eye-

lids, leaving our fading thoughts.
Reconstruction of the dome
can only start with outside funding.
Our money popped with the bubble.

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