The future unpredictable as gas
Its fictions must be written by our hands
On tablets with the clarity of glass
Which crack like bones dried out on foreign sands
The prophets’ meanings , unnnamed, cannot pass
The sentences bind stories till they blend
The whispers and the excess of his blasts
Till all are crucified by loss of sense
The arches of the heavens will surpass
The golden eye ,the mind its telescope
Then all at once humanity is trash
The microcosm, a particle escaped
Will Evil change our hearts till blood is brass
The valves are closing, polished into death
How my heart sings 