Upon the highest peak she stands
Angel or the devil's spawn?
Windswept tresses red as flame
No one knows from whence she came;
From her lips the sounds of death
Rolling thunder rocks the earth,
Future held within her hands
Pours from her fingers, blood-soaked sands;
Black clouds rumble in the distance
Lightning flashes sear the sky,
All the peace doves leave their nesting
From this day there'll be no resting;
Might this vision be a warning
Sent to man to mend his ways?
Still I wonder if he'll listen
From our eyes more tears will glisten;
Welcome the apocalyspe!
Behold - the firey end is nigh,
If man does not amend his ways
He will have but to count the days.
10/26/2008
Linda Ori
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/apocalypse-14/
