In Th? ? Utur?

Were life just a metaphor,
And a flaming meteor
Fell to earth tomorrow
Bearing foreign spore
And though the past was never there?
And the future, under a stone,
Scuttling, like a scorpion!

A million megatons of dust
Doodled out of mooing earth,
Suspended in the crystal air,
Then settling on the puffball tongue,
To pronounce the sentence of our doom
And cancel out for evermore
This pain, this rage, this waste, this sorrow?

poem by John Paul Wilson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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