The End Of Our World Could Be Near

The End Of Our World Could Be Near

In the quiet corners of his mind,

Where stars would burn and black holes bind,

Stephen spoke of futures grim,

A whispered fate both dark and dim.

Not in fire, nor ice’s claim,

But in the spark of mankind’s flame.

Our clever hands, our restless will,

Could birth the end, both swift and still.

Machines that think, too cold, too clear,

A silent threat that draws too near.

Or worlds too warm, the oceans rise,

A silent warning in the skies.

Not prophecy, but reason’s call,

A plea to steer, lest kingdoms fall.

For though the clock’s faint ticking grows,

Hope still lingers, softly glows.

His voice, a mind that dared to soar,

Still echoes past this fragile shore.

And in his words, a silent guide.

The end draws close, yet hope abides.