On that loveless december day
when Death had covered the sky
over with his tattered gray cloak
and fire climbed the mountains,

on that day—that day of all days—
when darkness and light ended
their fight and all binaries, large
and small, were stitched together,

on that day as the burning snow
fell across the frozen ground
and obliterated the few remaining
conifers given to the harsh clime,

on that day when a muted sun
shone its paling light across
the broken windows and empty
swimming pools and charred books,

on that day the Lord came in power
and glory, his heralds before him
and all the heavenly host attired
for battle. But they were too late.

For on that day humanity was at last
undone by means of human sub-
creation as the stars moved, the wind
blew, and this empty rock endured.

As it was in the beginning, it ever
shall be: world without end.