Saturday

Saturday.
The world was supposed to end today.

Cup of rooibos in hand,
I look out my window.
At the birds still chirping.
My son still giggling.
Cars still driving.
The sky still existing.

And I realize that I know nothing else.
I can't fathom our earth's demise
because it's never performed for my own eyes.

This world will go on,
I surmise.
For the kind at heart
And for the eyes so wise.

On the day the sky disintegrates
the cars cease to work
my son suddenly silent
and the birds, gone away.
I will watch with my steeped happiness,
Remember my blessings,
And let it be.