The Star Glass by Lucy Whitehead

It was the end of the world
but we did not know it.
Scientists had been replaced
by enchanters and magicians,
and priests of the light fought
those of the dark arts.
All had been put in place,
all the verses spoken,
all the potions stirred.
We thought we had it in hand;
everything seemed normal,
except the silence.
First we noticed the lack of birdsong,
the stillness where once bees had buzzed.
Flowers wilted and dwindled,
but everyone was too busy
with the next bright thing,
the stuff of dreams.
As a last resort
we took down the star glass
from its sacred altar;
forged from a dying star
it allowed us to glimpse the truth of things
where black magic had veiled it.
We held it up to the bright sun,
the life giving centre of our world,
only to find it had already been corrupted,
a black ball of evil spewing death,
surrounded by dark stars.
The end of everything had already begun.
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Lucy Whitehead has a BA (

