Through bleary eyes we watch the answers tick towards it's coming - As seconds, minutes and hours Measured out by three fates With a twisted string. We had our moments - so they say - When we shone brightly. It manifests, numerous As a spiders eggs - will Hatch in thousands And swarm the threaded string With blackened bodies. Like pin pricks - one is harmless - But concentrated, conquer. Belatedly we seek to staunch the wounds With frantic hands - but failing - Erupting through our fingers and falling from the sky. Our many deaths upon us here - In a heady rush, flowing. We saw, we knew, we waited For other gestures To render ours extraneous - and engorged We sank in quicksand to our necks. Suffocating and embracing - In embers, fingers raw. Regret is palpable and heavy On our tongues - as blinkers - As a veil is lifted And, divested of cocoon, It stretches and devours It's mothers and fathers. You see - our apocalypse is manifold.