Poem
Arts
Faith & Learning

Endtimes

Intersections No. 34 · Fall 2011

There will come a day, a last perfect day
When an unblemished Sun makes the cool Ocean roll,
And the great sea beasts cast their perfect white spray
For the very last time with untroubled soul.

For each frail mortal and each questing mind
Stands to the Ocean as foam to the wave.
Before it is scattered, it longs that it find
The pulse of the Deep at the edge of the grave.

It is our conviction that something remain,
Engendering life when our time has passed:
The Sea, the Life-Giver, the clouds and the rain,
Making forms ever new and the drama recast.

When the Sun shall expand, and the great Ocean dies,
When the blues become black and greens become red,
Let it die full of Life! Let its murmurs and sighs
Give the drama a meaning. Let it not, Lord, die dead.

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