The End of a World

By myself, I sit in the middle of an eight lane

freeway, void of cars.

The asphalt is crumbling beneath me, time turning

the appearance to drying clay, grass shooting

up between the cracks.

The sun bears down, unimpeded by clouds, reflecting off

the broken glass of fallen colossal beings that once

held board meetings.

Here is the Nothing of my search. Was it worth it?

There is no sound

      movement

      life.

No more songs.

No more conversations or arguments

No more hidden smiles of a past lover

No more airplanes or satellites

        or dance

             or laughter

                           or ingenuity

                      or curiosity

                                               or people.

no                              more   humanity

Who would have known that the end of  my world would

be so quiet?

Here once was my Everything, and now I have arrived at

the Nothing.

Just me.

and an empty eight lane freeway.