The sea of magenta lilies spreads forth among the reeds—
A pallid orange sun glares down, sickly, from an overcast sky
Filling the world.
A slight listless breeze stirs the vegetation.
The air is hot and crisp, like a sauna...
A comet, dark reddish-orange, streaks through the clouds
And disintegrates into sparks in midair,
With hideous ruin and combustion,
And a noise like a titanic thunderclap
That blows all into instant oblivion—
An awful shower of stars—
Then a void, as if nothing had ever been.
Copyright 2002 by Mark Andrew Holmes.