END OF THE WORLD

All your billions and bombs and blood won't be worth a bucket of mud when the killing's over and all that's left are cockroaches and clover, scorched trees and dead honey bees, a fridge full of rotten cheese and dried up seas and a "No thank you, please."

There'll be no disease and nobody to catch it, no chicken or egg or a hen to hatch it and who'd hit a fly ball when there's nobody to catch it? The immense expense for uncivil defense won't cover the expense of cover the cost of reconstruction of unwanted wanton destruction.

There'll be no love, no hate, no too early, too late, no caring, no sharing, no civilization, no today, no tomorrow, no sadness or sorrow, no splashes and clashes, only burned out fields of dry bones and ashes.