Timeline ARMAGEDDON

I enter barefoot—

white heat sears my arches,

dust rises, fever-dry

I walk the trail of coals

that hiss at the memory of rain.

Bruised sky sags,

a punctured lung, gasping

in the acrid reek of scorched marrow.

A monolith of silence

lies baked but unbroken

headstone of grief—

funeral for the concept of blue.

Tear-streaked horizon smolders

under a wheezing sun

weeping behind a veil of charred remains.

My steps slow

as I reach the place

where endings

finally

run out

of breath