Having failed to heed the warning,
and dismissing it as silly
or as irrelevant message,
asynchronous, without merit
in the crumbling world that was built
(on faulty foundation not faith),
shall commence a turning, tuning,
transmutation that lays nations
bare, hearts everywhere plain to see.

Look and see the signs everywhere.
Here the fixed statue weeps and bleeds,
each teardrop and droplet of red
reminder of life, legacy
snuffed out or stolen. There a child, 
picture of innocence, much like
the boy and his mother, hungry
as you fed endless appetite
for vain pride, greed and gluttony.

Still these seeds are scattered, hidden
in plain sight for those who have eyes
to see. Still message delivered
may yet rise through cacophony.
But the road will be difficult
for those who failed to go within,
shore up interior castle,
trust Spirit that moved like a wind
while so many hid, played pretend.

These days not beginning of end
but closing of our choosing time.

And there shall be a sign.