The moon was a violent white and the sky
a savage indigo of spear point stars.
The hoardes below belched forth their battlecry,
"Last call my ass, we'll overthrow the bars!"
The ghost of Plato walked with Socrates,
then puzzled, to his friend made this lament,
"They're all so full of life, but not one sees
an exit strategy that's competent
to salvage stellar thought, and ditch what's rot."
"And clueless, too", mused Socrates. "for them
God is supreme commander of the plot
With powers to promote men and condemn."
Just then, a meteor shot through the night
assaulting Earth with billion year old light.