THE GREAT RECAPITULATION
On our soil did settle the Chaos –
That dilapidated disharmonic music,
An omen to every pernicious destruction.
And forthwith was born the quiet sorrow,
Whose deadliness yanked us out our abodes,
Lugging us into the quarrel of gods.
After this initial, unsuccessful Ragnarök,
From the uterus of the ancient planet stepped forth
The collective consciousness of an insect army,
That were juggling our heads smugly.
Still, the scraped paws of the hound Antisthenes
Impudently and ardently squashed the tyranny of these
Two thousand six hundred and forty bugs,
Replacing its bitterness with strength, with will,
For another expedition around our soil.