The flames are burning high and the wind is blowing wide and big hailstones are hitting terrifyingly against the clouded window. Two earth plates fall simultaneously and both are now standing brutally uneven. Gigantic tsunami waves roll East, West, North and South and low-lying island inhabitants jump into their rescue boat completely too late.

Bombs keep on exploding, with ears that ring and everywhere the smell of sulfur and gunpowder is hanging in the air. In unprecedented unrest and mutiny, everyone eagerly grabs at everything in their path, as loot.

Property trades for a useless penny and silk and cotton make place for hides and skin. Preppers furiously bake heaps of rusks and involuntarily the chosen ones call, we want to go South soon.

The flames are burning high and the hurricane wind blows wide, while loved ones as well as friend and foe begin to revile and resent each other over everything.

Yes, in almost all so-called loves, there lurks a nasty, scathing bite and nobody can stop or halt the big flee, to nothing and nowhere, even less can they evade it.

From the sky there comes a strange sound and someone whispers, is this not perhaps the sound of bullets and gunpowder. But someone else calls, perhaps it is the whistling of the big missiles.

But another voice calls extremely loud, perhaps it is a deadly meteorite, shifted from its predicted orbit, yes now so terrifyingly loud in its approach towards earth.

The flames are burning high and the storm-winds blow wide and there is nobody that can stop or halt the forthcoming human slaughter of a big war anymore.

Everywhere the Big Judgment is coming in the form of one or the other terrifying noise and globally the weak knees are trembling, with unbearable cramps in the calves.

Yes, with tears burning in human eyes, with noses blowing tearfully, only murder and manslaughter emerge everywhere.

The flames are burning high and the polar winds blow cold and wide. The vineyards are heavy but everywhere the grapes rot and the harvest is shifted, hopefully but needlessly, to the next unfruitful season.

Nobody can articulate or describe the economy any more, with all political talks only an incoherent, crazy, cackling, controversy.

Yes, with the East and the West gloatingly rubbing each other’s nose in respective failures, with the entire trade now just a mocking industry.

So Mammon, swing your worn-out old body together with Babylon, and listen attentively to the terrifying sound of the end-time whistle.