The wind was still
but the air was howling
for the people screamed as the shadow drew near.
Morning had come
the sun was rising
but the world was drowning in a river of fear.
The music was stilled.
The demons were drumming.
Every clear voice was killed.
The shadow was coming.
I stood on a hilltop
and watch the sunrise.
Its golden red haze seemed to fill all the world.
Its radiant colors
brought tears to my eyes
as I watched the last painting to be unfurled.
But the ballet no longer had a dancer
the singer no longer had a song.
The questions no longer had an answer
it was the morning of the world’s last dawn.
I bowed my head
for all the earth was quiet
and rain fell from every eye.
Instead of sweet music,
all notes were silent
and every voice was but a hoarse cry.
The bells pealed out in a darkened sky
their voices screamed; all is gone.
Through the storm I heard their cry.
And thus the earth sung its final song.