We pause now as if in eclipse
Settling in
the soft apocalypse
Sometimes the scales are set to be tipped
Useless flailing
A panic switch
Riders are we!
of this soft apocalypse
Let only goodness then pass your lips
The sun always rises after it dips
It sails the cool night
On the waves it skips over
the soft apocalypse
In the glory of morn lay scattered chips
When gathered again
Old paradigms shift
Purged but not broken to terminal bits
Thanks to thee softpocalypse
-by Julie O./ Ember Elektra
*artwork, by Jo Alys Downs, Platero and I, 1957
