Hurried, Worried NumbersAnother Doomsday come and gone. Apocalypse averted.More Like This
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 crackpots count so many
Among their hurried, worried number.