sawitinadreamonce

Another Doomsday come and gone.  Apocalypse averted. In the morning light where we may ask for answers, Someone will crunch still more crackpot numbers; Say A-ha! And mark a calender. This much, we can take for granted. What I'm drawn to wonder, is where the well from which; This hope-of-death springs eternal - Gets it's stream of true believers; Who kneel, dink, and dream of the big sleep. That much, seems beyond the pale of colorful thinking. Then occurs an inkling, rearing And I'm veering toward a kind of vertigo - Sickly feeling ; When every passing second Could indeed be an ending. It's no longer such a wonder How the