• A perfect summers day, the smell of Honeysuckle and cut grass
    clear blue skies and the suns warm rays
    A song thrush and blackbird sing in harmony
    and the hush of a calamity stills them.

    Howling winds of destruction and death scream across the landscape
    As white light sears through everything,
    and waves of raging power sweep all we've known away.

    Trees lay battered, birds broken, their delicate wings in tatters.
    The bellowing rush is replaced by a deathly silence.
    The weakening sun illuminates a scene of true horror.
    A desolate, barren Earth decorated in sickening hues of red amongst the grey.

    New mountains have formed from our pitiful rock
    and the clutter of civilization creates a new land.
    There are stirrings of life as the cockroaches crawl from the rubble,
    the disease not yet eradicated.

    Executed by our tools of 'defence'
    and still we cannot find compassion.
    Toiling to survive in a world we destroyed
    In a war that was finally fought by the innocent.

    The war ended not with the sounds of guns,
    but with the pitiful sobbing of children and the injured.

    And so this is how the world ends.
    Not with a yell, but with a whimper...