In minutes now, this world might well be over,
its surface gone, its creatures on the run,
the end of faith together with the clover,
all meaning gone, exploded in the sun.
In seconds now, this planet could be wasted,
enveloped in a swirling ball of dust,
I hope that then I at least have tasted
a piece of life, and more than just the crust.
How will I know that I at least have tasted
a piece of life, and more than just the crust?
In minutes now its seconds will be wasted,
and seconds are the building blocks of dust.