Death, The Foot Poem by Michael Brosky

I think I know now
What Conrad Aiken meant
When he spoke of
The brute step of God
For if we do not fall down and tremble
We are merely the last ones
We cannot be anything but soaked in the rain
Such a contrary race
Such a vermin between time
That we pretend we are some kind of master
That anything we create matters
To us, God is still
So far as to no longer be a force
The cruel joke that this age played
Was to convince us that what is old is no longer relevant
Since we see our end in time
We must run and jump
Beat our chests and do society's bidding
If God is hiding, He is not coming
We see chaos in the stride

When the earth shakes
We will hear His step
Then death, the foot, will fall