Eschatological haiku
The days of darkness
are coming upon us all;
the sun will be hid.
The moon will not shine,
and the ever faithful stars
will absent themselves.
We might all be lost,
unable to navigate,
or to find the way.
Will he be coming,
the sky-sweeping Son of Man,
to bring us all home?
Read the signs, he told
his friends. The fig tree’s lessons
are long forgotten.
The generation
did, in fact, pass away; He
must have got it wrong.
My words will remain
when all else is gone, he said.
Ah, Lord, but which ones?
When not expected
the Master will return. Be
about his business.
© Ken Rookes 2020
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