The truth is that human beings will always be casualties,
scapegoats for god's egotistical whims and greed.
They wait for redemption, deliverance from unseen restraints,
whispering prayers into silence, hoping something listens,
hoping something answers.
Wishing for a bright day, blue sky, birds on branches,
peace across all horizons.
A stillness untouched by fear, by noise, by time itself.
The wind blows as lightly as the summer breeze you felt as a child, lying in the grass
counting stars and dreams of a grand future to come.
Which inevitably never came..
Children became adults with fractured personalities.
Promises were never kept, they thinned, they splintered, they fell to dust,
leaving them stuck in chaos and unrequited dreams,
repeating themselves in empty patterns.
Days blurred into years,
and years into something harder to recognize.
What once felt certain became distant,
what once felt close became unreachable.
Tarnished by dark ailments of the mind,
incapable of holding a thought or seeing it through,
everything slipping through unseen cracks,
we hand ourselves over to a quiet undoing, within and without.
The species is gone.
What remains are empty husks,
moving, speaking, resembling what once was,
shells of past worshippers of gods,
echoes of belief without meaning,
rituals repeated with nothing behind them.
And still, no grand message from the heavens ever came.
Then, as if the cosmos itself is mocking our existence,
as if all of this was always meant to end this way,
the sun turns blindingly bright, and then suddenly black,
signaling the end of stars in the sky.
One by one, they disappear,
until nothing remains to be seen.
Steam and roaring magma swallow the land,
not in anger, but in indifference, as nature intended,
clouds of smoke rising high enough to reach the heavens,
as if trying to return something that was never taken.
There is no one left to witness it.
No one left to remember.
The bright blue dot is no more.
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 12:26 PM UTC
The truth is that human beings will always be casualties,
scapegoats for god's egotistical whims and greed.
They wait for redemption, deliverance from unseen restraints,
whispering prayers into silence, hoping something listens,
hoping something answers.
Wishing for a bright day, blue sky, birds on branches,
peace across all horizons.
A stillness untouched by fear, by noise, by time itself.
The wind blows as lightly as the summer breeze you felt as a child, lying in the grass
counting stars and dreams of a grand future to come.
Which inevitably never came..
Children became adults with fractured personalities.
Promises were never kept, they thinned, they splintered, they fell to dust,
leaving them stuck in chaos and unrequited dreams,
repeating themselves in empty patterns.
Days blurred into years,
and years into something harder to recognize.
What once felt certain became distant,
what once felt close became unreachable.
Tarnished by dark ailments of the mind,
incapable of holding a thought or seeing it through,
everything slipping through unseen cracks,
we hand ourselves over to a quiet undoing, within and without.
The species is gone.
What remains are empty husks,
moving, speaking, resembling what once was,
shells of past worshippers of gods,
echoes of belief without meaning,
rituals repeated with nothing behind them.
And still, no grand message from the heavens ever came.
Then, as if the cosmos itself is mocking our existence,
as if all of this was always meant to end this way,
the sun turns blindingly bright, and then suddenly black,
signaling the end of stars in the sky.
One by one, they disappear,
until nothing remains to be seen.
Steam and roaring magma swallow the land,
not in anger, but in indifference, as nature intended,
clouds of smoke rising high enough to reach the heavens,
as if trying to return something that was never taken.
There is no one left to witness it.
No one left to remember.
The bright blue dot is no more.
Written while sitting on a chair in my Void.
