“It was early Spring when we died,” I began, my voice sad. “we didn’t know it yet, but the world was ending that day, and we were just caught in the cracks.”
“The end,” he said. And then the sun went out.
As I aged, all my past-times faded grey.
When I hit the end and started youthening, they brightened again.
So good, so healthy, so fine.
So far, so lost, so end.
The world did not end with a whimper, nor a bang. Instead, there was just screaming.
When I look at the sun as it settles under the horizon, I feel the end has come and peace I shall find until the hour the sun rises. Just then I’ll be thrilled at the thought of the fresh unexplored time in front of these sleepy eyes of mine.