When the world ended

In the silence after the last echo,

where the sky has crumbled into shards of dusk,

I stand alone amidst the debris

of a world that once thrummed with life.

The ruins around me are the skeletal remains

of what was once vibrant and full,

now reduced to dust and echoes.

Each piece of shattered stone,

each fragment of glass,

is a testimony to time squandered—

moments lost like forgotten coins

in the endless chasm of existence.

The empty streets lie still,

a labyrinth of regrets

woven into the fabric of the earth’s final breath.

I wander through this desolation,

my steps the only sound in a landscape

where laughter and voices have turned to whispers,

drifting on the cold wind like ghosts

from another, forgotten age.

The remnants of joy—colorful banners,

broken toys, faded photographs—

are strewn about like the remains of forgotten dreams.

The absence of well-spent hours

sits heavy in the still air,

a weight more tangible than the rubble at my feet.

Family and friends are phantoms

etched into the empty canvas of my memory,

their faces flickering in the void

like distant stars extinguished

before their light could ever reach me.

I sift through the ashes of time,

each breath a reminder of what was lost,

what was never truly cherished.

The clock’s hands have stopped,

a frozen sentinel of unspent moments

and conversations left half-formed.

The world’s end is a cruel mirror,

reflecting the void where love should have been,

a chasm of unfulfilled promises

and unspoken words.

In the solitude of this final epoch,

I gather the pieces,

like a solitary mourner collecting fragments

of a shattered past.

There is no solace in the wreckage,

only the stark realization

that I am the last witness

to a world that once thrived

and now languishes in its own silence.

Yet, as I wander through this forsaken realm,

there flickers a stubborn ember of hope—

a faint glow in the desolation.

For amidst the ruin and regret,

there remains a single spark,

a testament to resilience in the face of annihilation.

I am the last keeper of this fallen world’s memory,

and in this profound solitude,

I find the resolve to rebuild

what was lost to time and neglect.

So, in the quiet of this final dusk,

I will forge a new narrative

from the ashes of the old,

a solitary testament

to the enduring strength of the human spirit.

In the end, when all has been laid bare,

it is in this last fragment of existence

that I will find the purpose

to reclaim what was lost,

and to honor, at last,

the time that slipped through our fingers.