santiago carusos

At the end of the World,

We’ll all stand beggars and fools.

One class of paupers as the Earth cools. 

Barren and dry like the safaris of Africa.

After the Princes have fled and the soil’s been bled,

the color blue will reign supreme.

We’ll see vultures and their scavanger friends circle the dead,

that we’ve never seen.

We’ll hear voices and screams of beings unclean,

and we’ll scrape and scratch at the wood of the Arc.

Begging for a lift out of the dark.

3/1/11