god bless the deadlines

God bless the deadlines—

The aching, fraying fractures of minutes counting down to an imaginary doomsday—

Where the skies will remain whole, the angel will not speak, and not a single trumpet will sound, but nevertheless, we shake in terror, checking over our shoulder, looking and seeing and speaking oh so quietly—please, can it wait? we’ve only got—how long now? 

Because maybe the only thing worse than fearing the end of the world is the world actually ending. 

Which, to be honest, way may dramatically prefer, because if the world ended, we wouldn’t have to meet our deadlines. 

Thank you. Let’s have a great day.