Hopeless Easter Morning

Great silent waves
of glass and sand
exploding in a heated release
of liberating rain.

Massive columns of steam
fogging august monoliths
of moribund buildings
coated in sand.

Great canyons carved
through archaic avenues
and into weathered sewers,
exploding into a building's foundations.

The mighty typhoon scrubs away
at primeval dust and dirt.
A brief interlude, washing loathed sand.
Far downswtream, a delta forms.

One hundred years hence
will see the birth of a civilization
again.
Built from the decay of the old
carried to that fertile delta.

For now, the city, in it's timeless hell.
The storm but a mere reverie.
The tides of sand
running their predestined course
the tides of time
eating at the ruins of an ancient empire.

In the murderous city,
streetlights flicker
and die.
The last remaining remnant
of working civilization

The city breathes
a last, final, shuddering breat.
A deep sigh of loss and
remorse.

It's mighty death now forseen
stretching to an infinity of
oblivion.
Completely unreconciliable.

Imagine . . .
. . . the fall of Rome
magnified to the scale of an Atom bomb.
Imagine . . .
. . . if the bomb had fallen
upon Tokyo.
Imagine . . .
. . . the long, slow, decaying death
of a once mighty empire.

One hundred years ere,
on a glittering summers day,
silver panes of glass
glistened in afternoon sun.
Mighty storm clouds loomed on the horizon
planning there 100-year attack.

A silver spark
shimmered along the clouds,
separating from the bomb.
A small child glanced into the sky,
'Look, Mommy, an Aeroplane!'
and was quickly tugged along.

In an empty room,
a green effulgence
contrasted dramatically with drab grays
and a blinking red.
The RADAR room;
unoccupied.

No one knew of their impending doom,
that of the massive, living organism,
whose first death was quick.
Millions eliminated in mere seconds.

In the present,
the storm subsides,
a dream
that always knew of it's hopelessness.

The final death -
torturous -
was tormentingly long
and slow.
A final plunge
into a chthonic chaos.

Death in an infinity
of oblivion.
Quiet attempts at salvation
meaning nothing.

A city . . .
An empire . . .
A culture . . .
A people . . .
All . . .

. . . . Dead.