Penultimate

A heightened pulse through constricted veins and capillaries, that moment just before the pumping muscle arrests, that’s where the world teeters today.  The tide of change befuddles the wildest imagination.  The happenings of the last thirty years have culminated to a veritable pandemonium.  Embers from the Great War smoldered through the Cold war, through ideological and sectarian revolutions in every corner of the world, displacing millions.  The hydra of war spawned countless new heads, seethed with a phantom hatred for anything other than its own ravenous appetite for myopic survival.  Judging our kin with preconceived notions, we near a calamitous disposition faster than we realize.  Waiting for that one last straw.  Yet we keep cutting off heads instead of turning them to stone.

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