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EquinoxYou check your watch. “Oh hey,” you say, “it’s Equinox.”
The Ballad of Good OmensSome say the world will end in fire
BentleyO Master – I consider thee a friend.
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GO: The Moon Through The Clouds quantum-witch 12 5
You check your watch. “Oh hey,” you say, “it’s Equinox.”
“It happens twice a year, my dear,” I say, and start
upon the scientific explanation of
the seasons changing, and the tilting of the Earth.
You interrupt me – “Angel, that is not the point.
At solstice, day and night are at their most extreme.
But light can only go so far; the same for dark.
Today, there’s balance once again upon the Earth
with equal parts of light and dark bestowed on all.”
And then you turn to toss your bread at wary ducks.
I stand beside you, and I once more am amazed
at how you transcend pedantry with simple truth.
I think about the whiteness of your sunlit flat,
and how I isolate myself in dust and books.
A contradiction – or a sense of balance sought?
For you’ve a spark of goodness that you cannot keep concealed
And I’m the blot on linen that can never be erased.
The Ballad of Good Omens
Some say the world will end in fire
And some have said in ice.
But in a book of prophecies
Both accurate and nice
It is foretold the world will end
On Saturday at seven.
In a great battle in-between
The hosts of Hell and Heaven.
The angel and the demon
Stationed here on Earth had tried
To stop it with a cunning plot
That went a bit offside.
The sole way to avert this war
Is with the antichrist.
But where to find him? Enter one
That night she hit the Bentley seemed
To change their fortune, true,
But still it seems they didn’t know
Exactly what to do.
For o’er two hundred pages
They just dither and delay,
As we’re introduced to humans who
Eventually save the day.
So if there are some lessons to
Be learned from all this plot:
Don’t put your trust in Heaven or Hell
The dolphin’s not a kind of fish
That demons are not always cool
There’s lunch served at the Ritz
And angels dance to the gavotte.
O Master – I consider thee a friend.
We’ve traveled verily so long together.
Thy bidding I have followed to the letter
Whilst adding mine own touches here and there.
You only have to speak and I obey.
You wave thy hand; I follow thy command.
My trust in thee is full and justified.
For not a scratch or dent has marked my body
No, never once - in all my sixty years.
And thou hast never fouled mine tank with petrol
(well just that once – in truth I understand).
Now on this day I full sense thy discomfort.
The bookshop was in flames, the angel gone.
Wet and steaming, face blackened by ashes
You stumbled from the shop holding a book.
Thine eyes! Thy fearsome glare was serpentine.
I try to comfort thee in seats of leather.
Sit back – I’ll do the driving whilst you read.
I changeth my direction at thy thought.
O Master! Prithee help me understand
My treatment when thou dost reclaim the wheel.
‘Tis brutal! Never once have I made contact
In so violent a sort