Bovine Prophecy

I walked the path of bloodshed.
Warped disgusting rays of the once promising sun danced 
over the jagged path of stone like the jaws of some jurassic creature. 
Throughout the forever deepening forest,
I heard the dead birds call. 
Saturnine gusts of inorganic vile wind swallowed the lost. 
The splintered thorns fabricated sinister shapes across the Earths broken crust. 
I arrived at earths garden and knelt at the universal arbor. 
I stared into the globular depths of the bovine skull.
I saw until Earths end.
The rise and fall of the steel demon that plucked the wings of every angel. 
The perverted blades and chambers of mankind.
The burning blood of the mushroom cloud ribbed and swelling.
The scorched symbols of the dead or dying.  
Searing crystalline streaks of the celestial heavens aloft, now blazes with hellfire. 
I went to the place we wrote her name. 
I sang for the doves, 
for they could no more.
I cried for the forgotten ones.