We’ve always feared the end was nigh.

The simple folk of times gone by

Imagined God would do away

With all of us on Judgement Day, 

But now we fret we’ll be destroyed

By virus or by asteroid,  

By overpopulation or

By thermonuclear World war,

By nearby supernova, by

Annihilating our supply

Of oxygen, by ice age freeze

Or drowning in the rising seas,

By cyber-terrorist assault

Or universal debt default,

By black holes conjured courtesy

Of boffins at the LHC,

By nanobots that rearrange

Our atoms into something strange

Or rogue computers that refuse

To see that we’re of any use

And pull our plug. We could expire

In ice or just as like in fire,

With bang or whimper. Count the ways.

We’re jolly spoilt for choice these days.

Spoilt for Choice

© 2019 by Rob Stuart