If we woke up tomorrow, and all things had changed,

Would we catch the mistake, or think all was the same?

Have we always walked on two sturdy legs?

Have we ever been known by some other name?

What if, if God exists, we're just one of His passing-the-time-games?

And once He becomes bored, He'll just toss us away

Into His ethereal dumpster for us to rot and decay?

Could this happen tomorrow, or did it already happen yesterday?

Would we ever even notice a change?

Or would we continue on day after day,

Until, suddenly, it just all bled away,

And Nothingness swept in to fill up the space,

As we fade away with no more words left to say,

And all our memories, and lives, and loves, became

Nothing more than ashes and flame,

To be dumped into urns on God's mantle amongst all His other mistakes?

What, now, do you have to say,

Before all of your words are taken away?

Do you still think it will all be okay,

When God finally becomes bored and tosses us away?