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Beauty in The Ending

Eulogies Written For Dying Worlds

By Bradley RamseyPublished 3 months ago 9 min read
1
Image: Juskteez Vu via Unsplash

I have memories of creation. Of stars being born, galaxies weaved from stardust, and life emerging from the barren wastelands of distant worlds.

Now, all I see is destruction. I arrive as these worlds draw their final breath. I feel compelled to them. As if they are my children, and I have been summoned to hold their hand in those final moments as they pass.

Every story is different, but the beginning is always the same. It starts with a whisper on the winds of time. A gentle nudge that sends a sweeping sadness across my infinite form.

I rise, crossing epochs with each stride until I arrive at the source—a singular moment within a vast ocean of stories.

Planet 1: Kragoria, The Sundered Sphere

Kragoria, I knew its story well; it echoed my own in ways only I could understand. I flew high above its surface, which ran hot with rivers of magma, like veins across the planet’s ashen skin.

This world was severed down the middle, exposed to the core. It bled out silently, crying tears of steam that reached into the void like drowning hands grasping for a lifeline.

It was there, floating high above, that I wrote my first piece:

***

The day Kragoria shattered came as a shock,

But this world was always a ticking clock,

Cut and bled dry by a gluttonous parasite,

Selfish souls barreling toward eternal night.

*

The planet and its people lived in harmony,

Until riches below compelled them to larceny,

The damage was slow, nearly invisible to see,

The day the world broke, they sought to flee.

*

They could have stopped this cruel madness,

Spared this world from death's inky blackness,

Too selfish to accept the tendrils of sin,

Consuming them out and from within.

*

I have no mercy to offer these fallen souls,

It was they who rang the bell that tolls,

Too blind to see the truth before their eyes,

And filled with hubris that all reason decries.

***

Perhaps I was too harsh on the people of Kragoria. After all, was I not the architect of my downfall?

Had I realized my folly sooner, perhaps my fate would have been different, but could a ship ever be righted amid a storm? It’s far easier to deny that the end is nigh than to accept the truth before you.

Another whisper, this time close by. A familiar voice as well, sweet like honey. I spread my wings and soared on solar winds to the next world that sought my soliloquies.

Planet 2: Linara's Hope

This planet was once a symbol of harmony and balance. Its creator, the ethereal queen Linara, ensured its people would never know the frigid ache of loneliness. She decreed that until the end of its days, the planet would always birth new souls in pairs.

Prosperity reigned for countless centuries, but soon the people of Linara’s Hope would feel the icy embrace of a soul cast adrift in a sea of nihilism.

My arrival, as always, was timely. My work continued:

***

Ashen lands dance with wisps of smoke,

Burning all asunder upon Linara's Hope,

A place that once held life and love,

Now barren like the skies high above.

*

Linarans are born in pairs, forever entwined,

Two souls with their hearts and minds aligned,

Then came the day when only one was born,

An omen that left an entire world forlorn.

*

Loneliness was foreign to these denizens,

In those final days, they became veterans,

Waging war against their untimely fate,

Never knowing that it was far too late.

*

Their sadness turned to unbridled rage,

Destruction set loose from its rusted cage,

To feel anything, they destroyed their home,

In this wasteland, now cursed to forever roam.

*

Linaran's once entered death as they did life,

Quiet hearts, open eyes, free from strife.

Not so for this world's final, raging souls,

Screams echo in the embers like hot coals.

***

I set down my pen and contemplated the silence, punctuated by fear, anger, and regret. Another ripple came to me from across the cosmos.

I stood and bathed in their profound loneliness. It was familiar, comforting even. There's beauty in being understood. I said a final, silent prayer for the Linarans before I departed.

Planet 3: Primark’s Silent Song

Your fingerprints were all over this world. Glistening and shining defiantly as darkness and death closed in all around.

The Primarkians were known across the cosmos for their haunting melodies. I was granted a final show, one that consumed the last breathable air in their world.

I held those final notes close to my heart and used them to mask the desperate gasps for air that ensued shortly after.

In that suffocating silence, my work continued:

***

From head to toe, their bodies are instruments,

Strings beneath their skin, glowing like filaments,

Bones hollow as passageways for moving air,

A body made to sing and dance without care.

*

From dusk to dawn, music fills their lungs,

Shared passion burning like a thousand suns,

Knowing full well their days are numbered,

They smile and carry on, fully unencumbered.

*

Their songs carried a celestial reverie,

A hope that some deity would hear their plea,

Take their music and spare their lives,

But the universe was deaf to their cries.

*

The Primarkian's final notes echo around,

Into the sky and deep beneath the ground,

A final lullaby befitting of this place,

An ending defined by poise and grace.

***

You could have sung with them. I never told you that, but I should have. You could have carried on their legacy, but now you're both gone.

Another whisper, so faint I almost missed it. It was farther away than all the others. No matter, I must heed the call.

Planet 4: The Nightmares of Darukna

Darukna was a strange world governed by dreamscapes. The people and creatures that walked upon the surface were mere projections born from the sleeping mind of a titan.

For eons, the land prospered, and the dreams of the sleeping god were warm and comforting. The people were happy. Then, one day, the titan's dreams turned to nightmares, and darkness came to Darukna.

It is here, in this maelstrom of madness and pain, that my work continued:

***

Your eternal rest is paramount for this world,

Dreams painted reality, but darkness swirled,

What turned your happiness to suffering, I ask?

Could some horrific truth have been unmasked?

*

Something in your slumber fell off balance,

Memories shatter deep in your mind's palace,

As your worst fears become manifest and real,

Waking up seems to be the only way to heal.

*

Do you know what the end of your rest implies?

Open your eyes, and everything you created dies,

You don't know what your dreams have birthed,

But no one can grasp the depths of your hurt.

*

You are not selfish for trying to escape,

But do not forget the faces you create,

Wake up then, snuff this world in flames,

You will carry with you all of their names.

***

The titan opened its eyes, and that was it. In a flash, an entire world was gone. The sleeping god had escaped their nightmare, only to wake up in the midst of another.

I had no time to comfort them. Your voice called to me again, and I answered.

Planet 5: The Crossroads of Earth

I told myself I wouldn’t come back here, to the place where we met. This world we created together was beautiful, flawed, and wonderfully complex, but it was filled with my regrets.

Still, I heard your voice calling me from beneath the oceans that cleaved the land. I had come this far; I had no choice but to dive to the bottom.

It was there, in the barren cold, that I found your message.

***

You, a creator who can no longer create,

And I, a muse whose love had turned to hate,

I inspired you at the cost of my peace,

Your scars faded while mine increased.

*

These worlds, these stories you write,

Their ending is near, always in sight,

Stop letting your regrets mix with mine,

Understand that your purpose is divine.

*

You hold the pen, you carry the brush,

As the artist, you must cease this rush,

It is not time for these stories to be done,

Look closer, and see they've only just begun.

*

Before you commit these innocents to death,

Stop, close your eyes, and take a breath,

Look inside, where your sorrows lie,

Cast them into the abyss to wither and die.

***

Even long gone from this world, your wisdom endured. I held your message close; my tears mingled with the ocean around me.

Your message rang true. In my sorrow, I had become the harbinger of death—the destroyer of worlds. I was the shepherd of their stories. It was a duty that I had long abandoned.

One last stop, then, to right this wrong.

Final Stop: The Black Hole Devours All

I am infinite, all-knowing, and devoid of fear, yet, an icy chill fills me when I look into that vast expanse.

I brandished my pen and pressed it to the page. I would write my regrets and my resentments in blood until those demons could bleed no more.

Then, and only then, would I cast them into the abyss so the story could start anew.

The work continued, barreling to its conclusion:

***

My power was meant to be infinite,

Reality was mine to mold and implement,

You were never supposed to leave my side,

And yet, as a writer, my story was denied.

*

I see now why the universe rewrote the tale,

Our story never meant for us to prevail,

The paths we walked inevitably must cross,

Going our separate ways was always the cost.

*

We built a universe together, you and I,

Without you, I was ready to let it die,

Now I see the responsibility laid before me,

To be the steward of these worlds’ destiny.

*

To rush the ending is to deny the journey,

No longer shall regret and sadness deter me,

Your last gift is here, and I finally understand,

Leaving my side was never part of your plan.

*

All is clear now, thanks to your guidance,

Chaos and entropy must form an alliance,

The old stories must die and be reborn,

Seeking joy in tales of the worlds we mourn.

***

With those final words, I let go of everything that burdened my soul, casting those final pages into pure nothingness.

In my journey to find peace, I instead found acceptance. Your final gift was more precious than you could have known. Beginnings, after all, are born from endings, and now I know…

This is not the end.

surreal poetrysad poetryheartbreak
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About the Creator

Bradley Ramsey

Lover of dogs, gaming, and long walks on the beach. Content Marketing Manager by day, aspiring writer by night. Long time ghostwriter, finally stepping into the light. Alone, we cannot change this world, but we can create better ones.

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