William R. Scarrott

“The end is near”, old prophets say,
“When angels weep and devils play;
Playground swings go still and rust;
Virgin brides refuse to trust;
Noble men begin to stray;
Our wells run dry and colours grey.”

So it is when we in sin
And pride refuse to let God in,
But build ourselves a monument-
Cosmic Anarchist Government.
We dance to the Devil’s mandolin,
And the mortal clock begins to spin.

“The end is near”, old prophets say,
“When we bow to a better way.
Justice and mercy wed and blend
When God becomes the sinner’s friend.
All we were not has been erased;
Dead bones can live with flesh replaced.”

The end is near for the downward chase:
An end to fear, a dawn of grace;
And end to hopelessness and rage,
A dawn of peace, and love’s rampage;
An end to children’s tears at night
The dawn of every blind man’s sight.

“What end choose you?” the prophets ask,
“The face of life or sin’s death mask?
Before you lie roads dark and light;
One sacrifice, one appetite.
One fist clenched in right and wrong,
One open hand and freedom song…”