Crumble

The roll of thunder rumbles
As the mountain slowly crumbles.
The words that my soul mumbles
Are the warnings of the end.

Soon the cataclysmic thunder
Will tear this very Earth asunder.
And we are forced to wonder
If or how the land will mend.

The tumult of the groaning Earth,
Of prayer we have a ghastly dearth,
We are shaken from a pagan birth
And our own ways we will wend.

Soon the earth will quickly crumble
Into oblivion each piece will tumble,
Against the thunder's brazen rumble
We cannot thus defend.

The end of us, the crumbling world,
Spatial fabric becomes unfurled,
We are all in this now curled,
Our pleas we now do send.

Terror now before us looms
Each one sent to different dooms
As the crumbling reality consumes
Each man and woman in the end.

The next poem title to use is The Dawn of Beauty.