Steadfast

I am not awed, the agony of the universe
Doth not appall me! The sun may crumble,
And sift through the star-mesh, onward
In motes to the utmost of chaos.
The moon may become mold,
Stifled by the cold embrace of Eternity,
And the stars burn, till they float like whits of ash.
Earth may become an emblazoned sphere,
Staggering drunkenly amid the dead universes.
None of these giveth rise to wonderment-
What of the torment of matter, if in
The eons of decay and destruction-
His promise is fulfilled-and I be!