Written April 2012

Vivien Marie Lopez

Welcome to Tel Meggido, battleground finale.
What have you got for arms, rational monkeys?
Seraphs, reapers, weapons of mass destruction.
Call it Rapture, Armageddon, the Revelation.

When the earth becomes a fixture of fatal debris,
We are alone in this, prayers and curses as vox populi.

We are but curious primates in the Zoo Hypothesis,
We are but casualties in a cosmic war of pride and prejudice.
We are but a foolish species Gaea has no need for
We are but a living replay of Sodom & Gomorrah, a subtle encore.

Should we prove otherwise, then let this begin.
Life doesn’t wait for both the faithless & the fanatics.
We are but cocoons of souls in the mercy of the universe,
Lying in wait for the butterflies to prove our very worth.

And while sunrises and sunsets mark the nth chance we have,
While there’s still breathing room for the ones who don’t stop dreaming when they wake up –
Stay, watch fate unfold, be ready, but never forget:
Mankind will eventually destroy itself.

Perhaps this ambivalence towards our race will forever stand tall.
Nevertheless, tell me when, like night, you’re going to fall.
And I, like the light of stars, will stay to hold your orbit,
A ball of life & fuel watching from the other side of your axis.
For if biology is in the mercy of the hands of the laws of physics,
This is where the ace of the afterlife begins to unfold its semantics.

This is who we are, where we are, what we are for.
This is our essence, the concept of a theist’s metaphor.

We run like hell from sin, but we only run from our shadows.

We run to our religion for comfort, but we only run into ourselves.

(We’re chanting more prayers when we’re running out of gods

Are we running out of gods – )

(c) 2012

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