I walk through the world’s end.

All its history in my ear, it whispers,

mourning its destruction in sorrowful rain,

its supreme occupants, destroyed. Yet, I sense

only peace in this human-less world. A night’s dream

or night’s terror, is this? Without a care, the green lives

on in this place where no human can continue to live

and ruin. For now, I will walk through the world’s end,

and eventually, I will wander into my conclusion. But I dream

of a companion, to listen to the child-like wind’s whispers

race through an empty meadow, nomad clouds who sense

the beckoning and call the graceful rain

to descend to the soil. But I alone watch the wind, clouds, and rain,

and wonder as to why it is only I that shall survive and live.

I am less than the embodiment of a human, in a sense,

for ambition has left me on this serene terrain. The world’s end,

a canvas under my feet. I heard a tragedy whisper

when I walked through an abandoned atomic plant. I dream

of its former grandeur; it was built in honor of a dream,

unaware of the catastrophe that upon this dream would rain.

The crumbled cement, formidable ivy, and deathly silence all whisper

to me. Remain dead! I will command. Only I, alone, shall live.

Tempt me not, specters, for I will walk until the world’s end.

Cease this madness, and I demand to be returned to my senses.

I will keep walking, vanquishing slowly, forsaking my senses,

in this dazed, broken world, this world born of a dream,

step after step. I have wondered - has this world no actual end?

Clouded are my thoughts, but I shall walk through this misty rain

of insanity. For I am the only entity who sustained and live,

So for as long as I prevail, I shall be the witness to the world’s whisper.

It grows louder, transparent; it calls and grasps at me, the whisper.

A paradox: talk to me! I say. But resist! I plead to my senses.

Oh, but I will forget that with me my senses no longer live,

For they were forsaken in that land of forgotten dreams.

I can feel fragments of bygone humanity rain

down around me. Is this, at last, the final end?

The finale of this world, is a whisper in a bleary dream,

and I wonder how many worlds have met their end on a rainy day.

I watched, senses lost, while humanity perished and its ghosts lived…