End

This a Shakespearean sonnet about the end of the world.

I used to dream of flaming skies aglow
And raining embers mingled with the tears
Of children reaping what their fathers sow
Thus empty nights would whisper me my fears

That earth should go as loudly as she came
I now dare say is not a likely end
There shall not be a holocaust of flame
Nor shall there be a peaceful age to mend

A clock can only tick for oh so long
It does not chime the hour its time is done
But simply ceases singing its old song
So shall the earth complete its mournful run

And this I say is how the world shall die
Without a shout but with a weary sigh