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Destroy the world.

It is your birthright.

Hard wired to self-destruct.

Indolent student,

long overdue for an epilogue.

Break the strings

of the instruments.

Smash the horns,

and break the reeds.

The only music

that will imbue

your tragic moments

ought to be

the cacophony

that precedes

your inevitable moment

of silence.


the soft sobs

in the darkness.

Then wailing,

and cursing,

and screaming.

Deep primal fear,

and pain,

and anguish,

that can only be called,

“sorrow” and “regret.”


even the tears stop,

and you find

that all that anguish

did not kill you.

Sit amongst

your brokenness,

in your empty world,

soul leaking out

into the void.

You wonder

if your blood should follow,

but even death

seems just another

hollow promise.


a light slips in,

unnoticed at first,

but slowly growing.

When it finds your face

you are beside yourself

with wonder.

“What manner of hallucination is this?”

“Am I dead?”

“Did I die?”

The light is warm,

unlike all your LED bulbs,

and cold, dying stars,


The light

seems to know you.

It shines on you,

in you,

through you.

Every child

of death and destruction

has a chance

to be reborn.

Some search for the light,

but the light

always searches

for us.



DJR – 2023

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