Wonder Torn Asunder (poem)

A smell of ash
The streaks of cosmic hell fire
Raining down upon the Earth
And the Sun is bleeding.

All of this foretold
But all the warnings unheard
Not from the pages of the deity
But from the Mother herself.

And so here it is.
The eleventh hour
But there is no turning back the clock.
There is no weathering this storm.

When all is said and done.
And she has cleansed the land
The planet will be freed of humanity
Just before it is swallowed whole.