Ruin

The Sun. It stirs.
Golden fingers sneak up
Over the horizon. Grasping.
Slowly, surely. Grasping.
Wrapping the world in its hold.
Unfolding a scene of
Purity.

The Sun. It glows.
Energy? No!
It burns. Wood burns.
It burns. Coal burns.
It burns. Uranium
EXPLODES!!!
It burns.

The Sun. It sets.
Black tentacles of
Choking, choking
Smog. Push it away.
Tear the fingers
From it's knuckles.
No more Sun.

Bye bye.

27 November 1999
(happy thought indeed!)

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