Tribulation’s luck…

Left Behind

Enough will be enough,
finally,
when it is what it is;
no doubt about it
this time,
no Great Disappointment
or Julian recalculation,
no more merciful delay,
only tribulation
for those left behind
having ignored
the apocalyptic signs;
I will probably not
be ready,
maybe sleeping
or even worse, napping,
or indisposed
or picking my nose
when the trump
shall sound like
a jazz tone,
an archangel squeal,
laughing
while the clouds will
have that look
of sharp, bright rays
beaming through,
opening up heaven
at the end of days;
and one
date-setting schmuck
will finally be right
by sheer,
dumb luck.

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