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Ramblings On A Winter's Day
© Ben Burton

Of all the words that have been written
And all the words yet to be writ
Few will count, most will be canceled
When time records the final answer
Without paean, rhyme, or wit
Before Old Sol makes his transition
Displays the sign, "Closed for expansion"
The final breath will be approached
From a bird, reptile, more likely, a roach
Primeval forests won't make a sound
Since consciousness will not abound
Or exist at all
To hear that tree fall
The good, the bad, and in between
Quiet laughter, tortured screams
What's it all about, Alfie, anyway
Who's on first and where's the corn flakes
We decide, no they decide
Whose safari gets the guide
Hope and change as advertised
Hope for mankind exorcised
What of the spirit, yea, the soul?
The twentieth century knocked them cold
Man is but the smartest mammal
Education through the Learning Channel
Discovery, Science, Nat Geo, too
Where ancient beliefs were never true
Celluloid shape-shifting mores
To the left of Sodom's fearless forays
God and Christ a running joke
Knaves out punking guileless folk
Too cowed by PC to revolt
Elites created their own lord
Skint the flock they didn't abort
And raised a toast to global warming
In aeons, it should be alarming
Shed no tears for mass extinction
Utter chaos knows no reason
Yet, somehow, formed a grand design
Without an author, no mastermind?
In truth, a black hole has more purpose
Than a rabbit-hole world forlorn and rudderless
Where Chicken Little has the final word
Because the righteous lost their nerve

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