A Look at the Nuclear Age

A weary stranger travels

On a journey all alone

At evenings end to rest his head

In a barren field of stone

His sackcloth garments tattered

Soot beneath his eyes

A mushroom cloud behind him

In angry purple skies

There will be no last communion

None are left to pray

For we alone elected

Our final judgment day

Cursed to roam forever

The scorched and barren land

This lonesome symbol represents

The greedy souls of man

And time shall last forever

With no one to enjoy

The gentle breeze of summer

Or tiny Christmas toy

Not etched in stone this moment

Such a morbid tale of woe

But who amongst us rises

A different path to show?

*

Walter A. Pavlor Sr. is a columnist for The Parkersburg News & Sentinel.