Ode to the End

In honor of the forthcoming (or perhaps passed when you read this) Parousia scheduled (there's the no-brain part) for 6 p.m. Saturday in the year of our Lord, etc.:

                                          AN ODE TO THE END

                        This day, like the buzzing of a beehive,

                                      no one gets out alive.

                         Not a matter of fight or flight; the

                             last one out, kill  the light.

                         In a flash or the blink of an eye,

                            not even Family Radio to die.

Don't ask me from where that flash of inspiration came (I don't have a romantic bone in my body, really); but speaking of flashes, as in floods, mobs and things that happen in a pan, the comforting thing is that there's always another one on its way out the door.

Such being said, let me go on record (before it's too late) as admitting that our end is not a bad idea. We, in fact, are the new dinosaurs whose day is sure to come.

Think of it this way: we have grown too big for our own good; we consume entirely too much of the world's resources; and we leave destruction/garbage in our wake. But speaking of wake, I hope that we are all able the morning of the 22nd because we have alot of repenting and repatching (excuse the pun) to do.