Kindled by the sun-warmed high-desert soil
Bright patches
Glow on untamed hillsides.

Is this the edge of the world?

What lies beyond
This vermilion brilliance?

Is this a portent of
The raging fires of hell?
Hot and flaming,
Almost smell of smoke,
Of scorched flesh
And singed hair
Assaults the senses.

Or perhaps the splendid spread
Reflects the glorious gleam
Of heaven's infinitely broad
Golden boulevards.

What lies beyond these poppy fields?

Yen Cress

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/apocalypsis/