The End of Time

The End of Time

At the end of time, in absence of light.
There's no neon sign, no star filled night.

There's only silence and nothing to see.
No scented fragrance, no philosophy.

A place void of man, no you and no me.
There's no more hate or land of the free.

When time runs out you'll have to agree.
No birds in flight, no emerald blue sea.

There's no more bills, no sunny bright days.
Nor last minute wills, no last chance stays.

No merchants of hate or soft cries of pain.
No one to wait for the midnight rain.

Nothing left to tell, no one to tell it.
A void so empty, in the darkest pit.

In blackness bared, time will run out.
Do we really care what life is about?

Can we predict what happens next?
Where the page lies and in what text.

So we won't know when time runs down.
Eternity will die without a sound.

© Copyright 2005 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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