The End of Terrorism

In winter this white giant
Will fall on its face
Wait and see it wrinkle and fall
On wrinkled knee
Bones and cancer will sunder wind
Veins will gush jet-black across the sun
In winter this white giant
Will fall on its face
Wait and see it buckle and fall
On wrinkled knee.

After the white giant's breath
Has breathed on snow
Another spring will show
But neither blue sky nor river
Will cleanse the dying giant.

Ravenous hunger of red worms grows in the snow.