The world is at a standstill.
There is no such thing as time.
Every inch into the modern world’s
considered blatant crime.
On the fulcrum of extinction,
we are balanced on a peak.
It may all end in a year, a month,
some even say next week.
With rains and floods and fires,
we’ll be ushered out the door.
While remaining time expires,
we live on the killing floor.
Just one small tilt toward an edge
could unloose great destruction.
There are no more bets left to hedge.
There’s no hint at instruction.
We could become a void in space,
a former, not a latter.
Alas, the poor old human race,
run down to anti-matter.
