Slow Down, the End is Near

Every autumn gathers summer to itself,

and takes it underground.

So it is with humanity,

gathered at the end,

knit together by bone, if not blood,

in guts, if not glory.

The maggots ingest our spirits.

The worms gnaw on our flesh.

We are bound to sin in our flesh,

and bound for someone to share

life eternal in our spirits.

There is, in the end, only one question that matters:

Where?