Poetry: End of Days

When fire consumes
all my life's work;
when bitter cold
buries all my memories.

When the darkness breeds
evil beyond imagining;
when the light fades
and hope disappears.

The end of days,
bringing damnation.
The end of days,
my last hope for salvation.

I watch the flares
in the night sky.
I see the light
racing towards me.

I feel no pain
as my flesh is torn;
I feel no pain
as I no longer live.

The end of days,
come soon or far.
The end of days,
my last hope of salvation.

How shall I spend
my final hours?
Do I become
a devil or a saint.

My soul hopes
I make good,
my mind
knows better.

I am neither
a devil or a saint.
I live a life
I deem worthy.

The end of days,
the final reckoning.
The end of days,
my last hope of salvation.

Today I do not think
of the end of days.
Today I think
of a better world.

Today I think
of a place to raise my children.
Today I think
I will try to make it better.

The end of days,
the final hours.
The end of days,
I wish you ill will.

Keep back, world's end,
stay away forever!
I want my children to live!
I want my children
to see the birth
of theirs.

I sit back
and enjoy what comes.
The end of days will come,
but I can do my part to stall it.