The End Of The World

The End Of The World

You ran so fast,
I scarcely saw the footfall,
as you sped in desperation into the past.
A declaration, the spearhead buried deep.
How quickly the numbed silence creeps,
when all those echoed ghosts scream for recognition.
A transgression of affirmation, fear that grips the heart.
There is no way to grow in the dark.
Dreams, they always seem so real when your asleep,
but when the dawn creeps from out that crepuscular light,
the fright of loves awakening, terror of the breaking,
screams into the frightened hallways of the cosseted life.
I saw the comet rise, It was dawn,
and in those nascent skies it climbed so willingly,
as if it's arc would tear a hole in heaven,
but just as the singeing light ascended,
It bent, and down into the sodden earth,
the marshland of rot and damp decay it went.
I turned to you, as you sat beside me in that light,
and in fright I saw your face,
yawning like the chasm that invades this place,
'We're fucked' yes!... that's what I said,
and yet, no fear invaded me there,
Only resignation, as I held your hand,
waiting for the fireball to swamp us in this land.
We sat and watched the eastern horizon burn,
and turned, squeezing each others hands,
as if the end had come.
But it didn't end.
Instead, in quietude, the fire burnt in the distance,
as if the past was being consumed in some wrathful judgement.
It didn't end. So we just sat there, marvelling in the glory.
Thinking this was the final chapter of our story,
Thinking how beautiful it was, in that moment of resignation,
to be sat beside someone we loved at the end of the world.
But it didn't end, and all we did, was awaken.

© Richard Michael Parker 2013

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