Through the scraps I saw atop the 100-story tower o’ lightning the band playing their final song, horns blasting, piano keys dancing, & throats rapping. Since the generators collapsed, we were all in the dark; the only light was the peripatetic lightning flashes. I thought I’d ne’er see the emerald-colored curtains or the intricate carvings all ‘long the ceiling. I thought I’d ne’er see the companions I’d lost in the crowd in the lobby.
Yet, as I watched from my seat near the back, I thought, Doom ne’er looked mo’ beautiful.