On
Monday, he noticed a rip
in
the sky,
growing
larger the more he thought;
and
wondered if
this
was a sign.
On
Tuesday, laughter
came
and went.
He
ignored it.
On
Wednesday, nothing happened
and
he was afraid.
On
Thursday, he knew
that
left three days
to
remake the world.
On
Friday, he realised
time
was old.
Saturday,
the earth
grew quiet.
On
the seventh day, he wept,
knowing
that nothing mattered now,
not
even the authorship
of
these words.
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