Three Minutes to Midnight
Published in
1 min readFeb 1, 2017
© 2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
It’s three minutes to midnight.
The moon cowers in a darkened vortex
Where worlds were born, flames ignited, extinguished,
Smoldering to silence before protest could even begin.
The ring on his left hand glistens
As he reads the inscription once more
And silent laughter fills the smoke hazed night.
Dawn of a new day or death of a past hope?
You choose where we go from here.
Time suspends in jagged frozen lines.
For now, he stays in elective purgatory,
And it’s three minutes to midnight.
