And so we stand, at the edge of the world.

Faceless, peerless, without compare,

The eschaton looms…

A blessed anticipation

fills the mirror of our mind

with joy and gladness.

The tones of this world-symphony,

are opaque and pregnant

with the future.

The past beckons us

forth into time

and we must obey.

In the end the last

shall come first

and the first last.

Alex Rogers

Aspiring philosopher, theologian, writer, and composer. Big ideas about small things and small ideas about big things.

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