Poetry

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Mother Nature is about to deliver. She is in the throes of her final birth pangs and about to make her final push. She has already chosen the name of her child: Super. Super-Nature. The day of the birth will thus be a day of supernatural display of the highest magnitude. It will usher in a brand new world in a meteoric "baby shower" to surpass all showers, Baby!
We humans were the crown of the first creation until came One who wears the Crown of all crowns, at whose feet all crowns will be cast. The baby is about to "crown" you might say.
We can all relate in a way, because each of us is here as a result of a final painful push, a finishing kick so to speak. We all came here without requesting it, kicking, screaming and crying onto the scene. But this final time, try as it may, humankind will be powerless to abort, or avert, avoid or pervert the joyous Delivery that was always destined to be.

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