our end

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.