And I Feel Fine

I do not know just how the world will��fall,

We could all die in glowing atom’s��light

A shadowed order, urgent red-phone call,

A��diplomatic crisis late at night.

Pandemics too could finish people off,

New viruses impossible to stop,

An ill-timed sneeze, a germy-laden cough,

Plague spreading fire until like flies we drop,

A comet’s falling hammer from the sky,

A gamma ray burst somewhere out in space,

Or earthquakes, lava, pestilence: oh my!

Then mass extinctions: good-bye, human race.

�� ��However the world’s end comes, small or big,

�� ��It likely will not be by guinea pig.

Last month the poetry slam was centos; apparently this month we are doing sonnets. So I went with a sonnet. Ah, poetry.