The Apocalypse

As I peer into the mirror Of my Refractive Telescope Past the belt of Orion I spy the approaching Apocalypse A globular irregular comet Flaring of its endless tail Spreading dust across the galaxy On a collision course for planet Earth Turning away, I stand and ponder What a waste, the trappings and status Of the human race, for what purpose Twelve, twenty-one, twenty twelve It will be for not Turning back to the lens and thinking of The alien Mayan Long Count, how ironic Sidereal time places the impact date Exactly when their calendar ends