Image by Trevor Blake via Flickr                      Beyond the sliver line,

    awaits the future in perfect time.

A cry from the East

shall be a sign,

that life as we know it has ceased.

Knees will bow and kneel to the ground.

One by one without a sound.

Tree tops on high will yield a bow,

thus the fishes in the sea and the feathered fowl.

The elite will be gathered into the clouds,

by the host of hosts and the Holy Ghost.