..                                     Apocalypse Rhythms rise, a thunder forged, The horse of Doom from Hades' gorge Rides the moon of lesser angels' cry. Seas that churn of storms unhinged, Wolves that howl at kingdom's fringe Run through forests driven incubi. Fury held at brink of light, Visions hurtle through the night Drowning under citys' glassy tide. Soul of God in deepest know Directs the greater angel's bow, And stars blink out as hell and earth collide. © 2000                                John H. Doe