What remains but works Of earth pushed as pieces In a gambit unknown As galaxies gaze down and weep Torrents of dying nebulae On the worthlessness of it all A hail of destruction At which we stare in awe Struck in disbelief, paralyzed in ignorance Cathartic as conflagration descends To proselytize the ultimate truth The truth of this earth The truth of the stars Of the marrow, the cartilage, the flesh The iron, the bough, the loam The husk, the grist, the waste The microcosm, the outer spheres The truth of the earth The truth of the stars That the blight is written Into our cells Mapped to pale tendrils Embryonic, frail, inchoate Yet ever-blooming, every-devouring Ravenous to swallow the last star