Last Cries of a Dying World

What song or voice can I give to a dying world? What might captivate the soul in ecstasy, feeble as it is, as its last sparks fade in the heart of eternal night?

Mist and shadows spread, covering all that is, just as the wool covers the newborn. Yet the world is old, fated to be smothered, strangled, and put to sleep. A bitter wind shall be its death cry. And blood shall be its tears.

Take joy in the morning, for the days are short. Clad yourself against the chill of time. Rage, so that light may stay. Praise the sun, as its world turns, and scream defiance at the end of all things. Scream and cry, so that the whimper that is the end of everything may yet find echo.

Note the ruins of those before – castles, cities, fortresses. They are the gravestones that will mark the unremembered dead. Let it be known that life was made under brighter sun. For only Death shall remember, and his memory is frayed.

Huddle by the fires and watch the embers die. Watch as the saga of Creation reaches its coda. Listen to song no longer sung, and the dissonance of fate. Find harmony if you can, but know that there is no major key.

Do all, or none of this. It matters not. For we must all meet the End in our own way – friend, or enemy. Do what thou will, and seek the light, even as it fades. But for now, I must rest, and end my epitaph.

For I am weary, and my soul grows dark.