What remains but works
Of earth pushed as pieces
In a gambit unknown

As galaxies gaze down and weep
Torrents of dying nebulae
On the worthlessness of it all
A hail of destruction
At which we stare in awe
Struck in disbelief, paralyzed in ignorance
Cathartic as conflagration descends
To proselytize the ultimate truth

The truth of this earth
The truth of the stars
Of the marrow, the cartilage, the flesh
The iron, the bough, the loam
The husk, the grist, the waste
The microcosm, the outer spheres

The truth of the earth
The truth of the stars

That the blight is written
Into our cells
Mapped to pale tendrils
Embryonic, frail, inchoate
Yet ever-blooming, every-devouring
Ravenous to swallow the last star