At the toll of the bell,
After Heaven and Hell,
When our satellites fell,
Did we fare so well?

When the oceans have choked,
Fraught with plastic and smoke,
The halcyon barriers broke,
And the Old Ones awoke.

Now we are so few,
Scattered fro-and-to,
Like Babel anew,
What are left to do?

The sun has grown cold,
Withered stories untold,
Our hearts had been sold,
For failures and fool's gold.

So pray for calmer weather,
Now and forever,
But this life won't get better,
This is my final letter.