This is it.
My ending.
My epitaph.
I am exhausted.
I have explored every idea I wanted to explore.
I have told the stories I have wanted to tell.
My imagination has been stretched to its very limits.
It's time to call it a day.

For now.

Perhaps, someday, I may return.
To write a second chapter.
A new beginning.
Perhaps.

Until then, farewell.

The air raid siren sounds through the busy streets
People flood out of their homes and rush to the bunkers
Children and pets are trampled by the tidal wave of screams
It was every man for himself at this hour of the night

The hobos and the madmen of the alleyways looked at each other
They knew they had no place to be safe from the oncoming terror
Rivalries were dropped so they could all enjoy their final moment
Together, as the city's outcasts. Together, as a family.

Overhead, a squadron of heavy bombers fly over the city
Like shooting stars in the night sky - except they don't bring wishes
As they pass over the city, they open their hatches
Atomic payloads drop out of the bombers and fall to the ground

Upon impact, an entire civilisation is wiped out completely.
Millions of lives. Decades of work. Lost to the wind.
Thousands of happy stories, erased and replaced by one sad poem.
All that remains is the shadow of the people, scorched into the ruins.

Through this scarred and sodden grove I sauntered,
Rhythmic footfalls silently treading through the destruction,
Never before had I seen a wood so tortured and haunted,
The saturated leaves still gracefully drifting in seduction.

Ich falle.

The moon emerged at last, clouds' curtain drawn,
A howl sounded out in the darkness, chilling and pure,
The shrill wail kept the woodland creatures withdrawn,
This cold loneliness again my own to savor.

Ich falle.

In a moment of passion, I traveled to the highest hill,
Emerging high above the poplars and oaks,
Releasing every spirit within me, I remained at a standstill,
Hands raised to the moon, I howled as I cast off my yoke.

Ich falle.

Mountain of flames
Higher and higher
Smoke climbs higher
Orchards of fire

Seconds, minutes, hours
Days, weeks, months
Years of history
Stories in the wood
Take to the sky
Higher and higher
As the smoke climbs higher
In the orchards of fire

But the history is not lost
No, it is only misplaced
Stolen by the atmosphere
Spread across the skies
Fragments of a past life
To shield us from the stars

I will guide him up a rope to the sky
I wish for him to see the world how I see it
I wish for him to feel the stars how I feel them
I wish for him to hear the wind how I hear it
I will guide him up a rope to the sky

For us to tower above the ego of man
Together
For us to look down on the petty war
Together
For us to cherish the thought of living
Together
For us to find the happiness we all seek
Together

But should he fall
Should he slip
Should I fail to grasp his hand
It’s a long way down
He will fall the greatest depths
Fall further than we have climbed
Fall beyond the conflict we strove to escape
Together, we will be no more
I will be in the sky
He will be down below
Hanging by a long, twisted thread
As he snaps out of it
A flower trampled into the mud

Let them all down
Let them all drown
I brought them this far
I don’t need them anymore

Let them all run
Let them all burn
From here onwards I walk alone
For I am now the free man I want to be

Cut the shackles that bind me to strife
Cut the shackles that bind them to life
They are no longer a burden to me
Now they can only torment the worms

The only difference between me and them
Is life and death
Life and death!
Life! And! Death!

Why can I not see through to her?
I raise my hand to wave
But she's just a blur
Has she made me her slave?

Do I love her too much?
Is that why I am behind this veil?
I simple want to feel her touch
But each time I try I only fail

I sit alone in this garden of many colors,
Flowers bloom beautifully in this warm spring,
Seen through these eyes of mine, it grows duller and duller,
I cast my eyes down, feeling a shamed sting.

This breathtaking scene frustrated with me,
I crept to the center of these dense woodlands,
Moving beneath an ancient blue oak tree,
Grey still all around me, I sat with my head in my hands.

Minutes birthed hours.
Hours birthed days.
Days birthed weeks.
Weeks birthed eternity.

I know not how long I remained under that oak,
But I knew the cascading emotions within would not calm,
I rose to my knees, conjuring up some false hope,
Doing anything that I could to make myself carry on.

I found myself yearning for the poison once again,
I found my soul pleading and begging for another taste,
I felt my very ashes being ground against the grain,
As I locked myself away in solitude, my mind ever on that waste.

Life feels so very grey now,
Every color faded and old,
Crawling on by somehow,
With this heart still ice cold.

Here I still am, and here I will remain,
I wait for my live-giving spark to return,
Praying for an end to this ceaseless hurt and pain,
Praying for the singular want I still yearn.

Color to coat this grey slate.