God’s aria exploded along
googols of spiraled galactic axons,
expounding Her final lament;
Inhaling worlds in voluminous black holes
and sparking supernovas
that popped like flashbulbs
over Piccadilly Circus panic.
But in the last fleeting moments
before Her superheated rapture
made the Blue Marble
nothing more than SETI noise
and a chaotic scattering of quarks,
sending her Son, the Saints and
Sistine visions of Hell as placeholders …
God opened her Vulgate,
paused Her universal orchestrations,
and awaited the Vitruvian Man’s explanation
of this unsettled business
in Her bloodied Canaan
while tendrils of lightning
stroked Streets of Jerusalem.
Popularity: unranked [?]
