Blind

The end is near, I can tell.

The roads, the sidewalks, all lie empty.

Void of life, of existence, of anything.

Silence fills the night and the moon whispers to the earth.

Telling secrets unknown to man;

Eerie things that would induce a terror into our hearts.

So great this terror- so incomprehensible,

It would lay waste to our very existence.

We would not survive to see the end.

But these whispers remain inaudible to us.

We hear the rustling of the trees,

The whistling of the wind,

And the howling of the wolves.

We hear but do we listen?

Our kind refuses to heed the warnings of the wise,

Telling us to leave this place for it is damned.

We cannot save out home, we can but destroy.

Our world is shattered,

But yet,

We linger.

Refusing to open our eyes,

For fear of being blinded by the light.