Micropoetry Monday: Apocalypse


When the philosophers died,
their ideas died with them;
when the writers died,
their stories died with them.
When the musicians died,
their music died with them,
& all that was left was the Here & Now.
Because they could not see the past,
they could not imagine the future,
for they knew not
how far they had come.

When the world became infertile,
but people lived forever,
the old citizens of this new era
became so far removed from their youth
that all the magic of childhood
& all belief in a better life eternal
& then vanished.

When new memories ceased to be made
& existing ones began to fade,
the connections between human beings
became broken,
then staticky—
before they altogether