The End of Time

The End of Time
by
E C Wesch


Between the hours of dawn and dusk
an eerie quiet fell,
as if the earth stood motionless
before the gates of hell.
No spark of life glistening,
no rays of golden light,
to brighten up a deadened world
entombed in darkest night.

No cricket hoards are chirping,
searching for a mate.
Fireflies no longer glow
there's nothing up that late.
Smooth as glass the water seems
no ripples caress the shore.
Its stillness bodes an omen,
of the break from evermore.

The school's a permanent recess
free of daily strife.
The playground's filled with ashes
of incinerated life.
Church bells peal no longer,
for those who'd want to pray.
There's no one left to ring the bells,
we all are dust...today.