The End Is Here!

The end is near, they say
But we heard not the sound of trumpets 
Could it be the thunder clap of last night's storm
That swallowed it? 

We are created in his image
Yet they mock our colour
For we are the black sheep of the herd
We are ignorants
But isn't it of the treasures of our head
They feed their souls?

God created all
But the Scriptures are a mere translation of the divine voice
Does death not knock equally on our doors?
For it knows not the favoured?

We all came from a womb
And walked the same dusty earth
Alas, at the crossroad we part ways
Listen not the godly words they spit
For it is but a mask for their cowardly stench
Their eyes unveil the colour of their hearts
They mock us for they fathom not what we imagine

Yes, let them cower into their lavish castles
But God watches over the tailless cow
From earth we came
And to earth we shall return
For termites know not the favoured corpse.

Author: Saint