Tomorrow will be broken
and all its voices spent,
the gathering of knowledge dispersed
colours rendered blank
words voided of meaning
and hope bartered in the market
for cheap reassurance;
when tides fail and
time runs out of itself,
what excruciating silence will follow?
what timbre,
what depth
reverberating down
the centuries, millenia, aeons
To end here at this point,
insignificant and dismissed
without ceremony
from its own presence.