At the End of the World

At the End of the World

The crushing knights wore iron fabric,
and sat upon high stallions with clicking lips.
They rode upon torn ships
on a sea of confusion.
They steered their sinking, marbled ferries into oblivion,
this army with no weapons.

They will forever be dead in dreams,
and will convey no more ancient religions.

They left cathedral shells,
spoils of an immense war.
Their absurd heresy,
their breaches recommending funereal forecasts,
now trapped in a web of obscurity.

The ewe withstood the ram,
and the sentient rot
of insurrection and darkness
eventually dissipated.

All that remains is
an intrepid philosopher,
wielding a commonsense impulse, 
standing on an aging banner,
at this,
the end of the world.

Linda Imbler


Linda Imbler’s poetry collections include five published paperbacks: “Big Questions, Little Sleep,” “Big Questions, Little Sleep” second edition (expanded with 66 additional poems), Lost and Found,” “Red Is The Sunrise,”  and “Bus Lights, Travel Sights.”  Soma Publishing has published her three e-book collections, “The Sea’s Secret Song,”  “Pairings,” a hybrid of short fiction and poetry, and “That Fifth Element.” Examples of Linda’s poetry and a listing of publications can be found at  In addition to writing, she helps her husband, a Luthier, build acoustic guitars in Wichita, Kansas, U.S.A.


  1. Haven't we felt this way in the past five months. No matter where you from on the planet I think Art speaks to the soul. While too many of us speak to the wind. Poets are needed and wanted.

  2. Thank you, Stanislaw, for reading and commenting on the poem.

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