in the scheme of things

dead pigs in the barnyard
stink,
tossing everything
at their former life but the kitchen sink,
hanging a blackboard on their
bedroom walls,
hearing their captain make his final calls
before the line went dead!
nothing could be remembered of what
was said
or what was done
before the loading of the biggest gun
and all the marching bands stopped,
playing their national notes
while watching the boarding of the immigrant boats,
all setting sail for the new world,
each holding dear to the lucky number seven,
dreaming of a future kingdom of Heaven
and a free fish bowl
from the nearest county fair,
hoping to break even and breathe freedom's air:
i saw a fleeting comet shoot
across the sky
while standing atop a rocky outcrop
with one sure eye
peering into my telescope;
did i see a message from a Roman God,
a prophesy of hope
or simply a shimmering motion in the scheme of things?