The Last Dream of Earth

They said the world would end with flame,
But it ended with a whisper — no one came.
No trumpet blast, no marching feet,
Just silence sleeping on every street.

The moon stopped moving, the stars stood still,
Time held its breath on every hill.
The oceans paused their mighty sway,
As if afraid to start the day.

Children stopped their dreaming deep,
While kings forgot the wars they keep.
Birds forgot to sing their tune,
The sun rose shy behind the moon.

No bombs were dropped, no fires spread,
But everything alive felt dread.
Not fear that screamed or clawed the sky,
But the kind that asks: "Did we even try?"

Cities we built with pride and pain
Were covered now in ash and rain.
Screens went black, the voices died —
And Earth, at last, no longer cried.

But in a field where nothing grows,
A single child with wide eyes knows:
That silence wasn’t fate or doom —
It came because we left no room.

No room for love, no time for grace,
We traded truth for a faster pace.
And in that trade, we lost the thread
That stitched the living from the dead.

He knelt and whispered to the wind:
“Forgive the mess we buried in.”
And as he spoke, the stars began
To hum a hymn for broken man.

And maybe — just beyond the screams —
That was Earth’s last, gentle dream.