The world grows old and ready
For it’s fiery cleansing baptism
But love for God grows cold
Like the ashes of a cataclysm

The earth sits on a timer
Ticking merrily while iniquity
Abounds and rises to the detonation
That causes the annihilation

Some are cold because of gold
Such will attract the refiner
To purge out the dross
Cleaning like the fabled Fuller

Others are ashen and cold
For the many sundry cares
For fame, title and passion
Are fanned to slumber for years

At Year-end the credits roll
And new targets are set
An endless cycle of chasing
And getting keeps us inert

Hurry and scurry,
Flurry and flourish
Round and about
Until the volcanic kettle
Finally belches its spout

And all accomplishments of man
Melt into dark oblivion
Feats crushed by fervent heat
Greatness faces worry’s extinction