(V)
The Final Premonitions
There are peals of thunder getting
ever closer. Brief flashes of lightning
blind those who are unprepared. They will
see again in due time. The tall man,
dressed all in white, carries a small box
across the threshold, and enters a room
which dwarfs him. He places the box carefully
on a silver table, and leaves the room
walking backwards. The good boy helps his mother
until everything is finished. He is the last one
to leave the library. The door locks automatically.
The thunder is upon us. It’s the same old story
we’ve heard before, but this time we’re living it.
The fear of earthquakes is genuine. People kneel
and touch the earth just to be reassured. Some claim
to have found seams which are opening. Others look up
into an empty sky with blind eyes, and stretch out
their arms in a mute appeal. To whom are they appealing?
The Prophet who lives next door shakes his head. He looks
fixedly at the earth, and says without emotion,
“It’s the same old story: we are the most ancient bloodline.
Our responsibilities are manifold. We must drink the whole cup
of milk before it turns to blood.” Lightning punctuates
his words. He gropes forward with apparent purpose,
passed a barn with doors wide open and no animals within.
They left weeks ago, their whereabouts unknown. The earth
is rumbling.Has the time of earthquakes arrived?
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