Rapture

Dark comfort; an oozing splendor. Life forced out and I am left sobbing. Years turn to centuries and days are but minutes. Trauma explodes as I ponder a sugary coating upon shrubbery. Snow is misunderstood by desert creatures. Machines tear flesh into ribbons and a cripple emerges. Carefree and careless are synonyms for freedom. A wild child stutters, mumbles and is silenced for sins made by the fathers. Thus, creation is unmade and we are left to mourn our past, our present and especially our future.

That's the way the cookie crumbles...