The Present

Whispering, soft,
Along the seams of our souls,
Until we shatter and burst
Like stars in supernova
At the edges of the universe.
 
Shut down and
Close.
 
That’s how the world ends.
Someone said it before,
And was right.
There is no explosion,
Or even im.
There is nothing
But the whispers
That flutter around in the back of the mind
Until one morning they are screaming
And nobody knows how.
 
But I find the future a further thing to fear.
The past can whisper
But from the front there is silence.
The screen is black
And even the adverts won’t play.
The past plays,
Throws popcorn in your hair,
And waits for the bomb to time down.
But the future has the patience,
And it looms,
Like the reaper over a ticking clock,
Until the black follows your vision
With the things you’ve never seen.