They’re all gone now, every one.
Nothing has been redeemed, and no one spared.
The darkness is consummate, ultimate, and victorious.
All that remains are the wisps of wishes,
the wraiths of dreams,
aimlessly wandering a desolate land
that holds no one to birth them
into a desperate world.
They float, adrift on a sea of abandoned hope.
With despairing cries, they dissolve.
Even Death, who claims all Life,
comes to loathe his task,
and snuffs
the last candle
that forever extinguishes
all the stars.
BlackQuill 