Every second

of every day

somewhere

the world ends,

someone

closes their eyes

never to open

them again,

their world

no longer exists

as they

enter the abyss

of oblivion;

though man-made

disasters

born of

nuclear fission

or

the warming condition

from unsafe

emissions

that eventually

might lead to

environmental

destruction,

though these

or some other

tragic event

either from hell

or heaven

sent

come to pass

in some future

near or

distant,

eradicating

all life

in an instant,

the blink

of a fevered eye,

perhaps

even

causing the rock

to cease its roll

in the milky way sky -

does it matter

any more

than each personalized

version

of life on this planet

each mind

has envisioned?

Is not each

individual demise

an end of a world

seen through

another’s eyes,

though other

hearts still beat

hands touch

lips speak?

Every second

of every day

a world does cease.

humans were the first to go

it may seem unlikely

but in all our boasting of

"intelligent life"

we were the first to go

then the ocean dried up

evaporated

over the span of three years

it sank into the earth

and disappeared without a trace

taking the sea creatures with it

naturally, the plants and animals

that managed to survive the first catastrophe

were slowly dying out from dehydration

the trees shriveled into twigs

the shrubbery crumbled into dust

volcanoes erupted left and right

since there was no longer an

"underwater"

the earthquakes shook

the whole surface of the planet,

the cracks spread hundreds of miles

lava rose up from every crevice

the world ended the same way the world began:

a lifeless, firey rock

with no hope

for the future

Wait for it, blink and you'll miss.

A little spark, a flash of light

And then

Boom.

Pollution unseen,

Beyond anything imaginable

By a few lowly humans.

It's deadly: heavy metal toxicity.

No, not in your veins, or blood.

Toxicity in the molten soul of the solar system,

The pulsating heart of our sun, Sol.

If you missed the spark, fear not.

You have a few million years

To watch it devour the inner solar system

As it expands.

A bright beacon forever marking

The birth place of humanity

And the death of its home planet.

the world ends and its beautiful you come over for a day of sun but it keeps changing like starbursts across the sky we could set up a tent in the rain and turn off the radio and have hundreds of people but also none except for us and i suppose you could smile at me with tears in your eyes and we'd deflect by trying to think of what song we want to die to and then we'd choose that one that sounds like fairy lights and speaks of a time we will never see again because we will never open our eyes to see the silence before morning and i will never miss your hands because they are outlining the constellations above us and we can make up new ones as we listen to the anarchy outside our yard but the silence will eventually be swallowed by the crying that we'll try not to do but eventually we will let loose a tear as the sky comes falling down and as we are together we will think that this could be the last moment and that we are heading forward alone but eventually the fear will die too and there will be nothing left except us and i can feel the slow disintegration until there are none instead of two and my palms will bleed in the absence of you but i need not worry because before you are completely gone the world turns blinding white and it all disappears.

the world does not end

quite the way people expect it to.

there is no final, powerful destruction,

no singular overwhelming power come to consume life.

though really,

what does it mean to end?

for humans, the end of the world is the end of our existence

but something may remain even when we are gone.

when the quiet came --

that very loud quiet which overcame all,

which gradually,

almost gently

and yet oh so cruelly

took everything away --

when it came, it sucked away life

by feeding on the hatred that humans created.

indeed, it did devour existence,

turned the grass to ashes and the air to poison,

but it was so slow,

so unnoticeable,

the way everything fell before our very eyes,

beneath our own feet,

and all by using the hands that humanity granted to it.

yet if anything could remain,

if any small sprout or newborn cub

could have survived the world's slow death,

then perhaps even the word 'end' would be a temporary term.

but as for humanity,

we would never be there to know.