“After”

This town is empty.

In the streets, in the buildings,

Skeletons of what used to be,

Rubble of what was there.

I look, and with wet eyes

I watch the wind sweep the ashen ground.

Nothing perishable remains,

No fires burn any longer.

The cars, the playgrounds, the traffic lights

Nothing moves, no sign of life in the gray.

And yet, it’s beautiful, like a rose made of ash

That will crumble at any moment.

To watch a single second that will last forever,

And move within it, and see everything that happened in a single flash…

I am a lucky man. The last.

I watch a still painting of the world.