And so it ends

What if tonight really is the eve of the end of the world?

Tomorrow, on the 21st of the 12th the Mayans, perhaps, predicted that the world as we know it would end. That there would be a shift in the way we think or live… And what if whilst the world teeters on the edge of an ending I am sitting in someone else’s home, sipping from someone else’s tea cup, whilst someone else’s children sleep upstairs. 

Should I feel more restless? Should I pace around the room, or should I gaze through the windows sky until my breath fogs up the glass to see if I can read something of my fate in them. The sky has turned its back on us this evening and rain keeps rolling off its flanks. 

Back at my own home the river is breaching is banks and ponds and streams are sliding on their bellies towards each other. The house is sinking into the mud.

So if the world ends as tomorrow begins then the ducks, at least, are happy.