Tall Tales: Apocalypse Now


O Beautiful Morning!
Hast thou no warning?
An imminent Doom
Lies up ahead?

Some Trouble is coming,
A horrible storming;
Blue, white and gold
Turning to Red.

O Beautiful Morning,
Thus much from learning
Of danger a-forming,
So strangers and others have said.

But then, when I looked last,
Into a past – I’m aghast!
Held fast!
A prescience in presence is had.

What makest much mournings,
Dark overcast scorning?
From whence do such mornings
Bring forth thus bad?

Someone so angry,
Someone so mad;
Some cannot make it,
Lest others be sad.

O Goddess, Dear Eos,
Free us! I ask.
If thus be such mournings,
Let all mornings last.

Free us from warnings,
And troubles from guess.
Thus! Precious Eos,
Of thee I must press.

O Glorious Morning,
Eos stand fast!
Thine in becoming,
Becoming, thou hast.

In casting off treasure,
Thy pleasure I bask;
And measure the future
In now, not in past.

Thus! Precious Eos,
In this, all I ask:

If such be of mournings,
May mornings much last;

If thus be such mornings,
Let mournings all pass.

©2015 Marvin Welborn
22 May 2015

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