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A B Perales May 2019
The strait of California
returned as the Gods ripped
the golden state free
from America.

The Shamans cried for
New Albion as the great
city fell into the sea.

Above the cries, the falling rain
and the crashing sounds of
what can only be called The End
came the voice of certainty.
"There's no stopping this."

The waters above and
the waters below all
moved with the
deep lakes, the crashing falls
and the thawing glaciers.

Thunder clouds were just
to block our view.
The snaking rivers and
the gentle streams
flowed with the winter run off.
Flooded city streets,
washed out state highways.

California will once again
be an island soon.

The Law of reversal rules
people's lives if they say
its "This" it's almost always "That."
2012 or 21.
My Fathers
biggest fear was always
them coming for our guns.
My Remington and my.45,
those ******* in their holes
all waiting on us to die.

The canals and the sand bars
somebody big had to make.
The L.A river and those who live in it.
Sinkholes and hail storms.
All fall into endless wells
that flow on forever
keeping everything clean.

If you look for the signs you
can't help but see them.
Like rain in Los Angeles on
a Memorial day weekend.

So it was and the Gods
kept their promise
and everything was gone.

Standing on top
of an ancient Titan with
every anwser to
every question ever asked.

In this moment amongst
the debris the bodies
and the ever moving rushing waters
the man who knew everything
suddenly felt Small.
Godspeed

— The End —