There in the sky, that fateful day,
through the clouds of mist in an eerie gray,
flew the plane that would rock the way
we would forever view the Enola Gay:
a fortress flying with one intent,
the eternal destruction unstoppably sent.
Was the motive pure? Did we know what it meant?
In that moment, a cacophony
of sharp, piercing light, and pandemonium free;
with the wave of fire and scars everlasting
were the scattered ashes and terror amassing.
What does this mean? Have we discovered our end?
Is it possible that we, the human race, will into chaos descend?