BrokenEchoes

  All there is now is wasteland With a few pockets of humanity Humanity may be too strong a word There are a few thousand of us left But I haven’t seen humanity in anyone Not for decades When most of us died, a lot died with us Compassion, empathy, warmth The air and water turned to poison Some had the means to build defenses Complex air filtration systems Self-contained water reclamation Domes went up over a few communities Soon the soil outside became toxic Nothing would grow outside the domes Those outsiders that didn’t die coughing blood Began to starve before long Those of us inside watched Let them die slow horrible deaths But the environment inside was fragile It could only support so many Could only feed so many Could only house so many To keep our community alive We had to leave our souls behind Now emotionless survivors are all that remain Now we are truly lost.

  I don’t feel safe here anymore This was once home My safe haven, my tranquil space Now the walls are too close And covered reeking grime The floor is dangerously slick With a viscous foul film I hear whispered indecipherable voices Dripping with vile intent And the scuttling of small vermin It is clear that this place is long neglected Can it be salvaged? Is it worth the effort? Or should it be scrapped And built anew? This was once home I don’t feel safe here anymore.  

  At a simple gesture The fetid mass begins to glow and undulate The warm of skitterlings scatter, Fearful of new events The chill, damp air softens And a breeze stirs the deep dust Bringing a gentle warmth Unseen here in ages The murky film of muck crumbles from the glass Piercing rays overtake the shadowy corners This diseased, abandoned hovel is transformed At a simple gesture.