After the End

Will I go unnoticed at the last goodbye?

When the rivers have run their course,

when the sun burns out the sky.


What will I have done when the mountains begin to fall?

When the rain clouds cry themselves out,

when the storm shouts out a final call.


Who will I have loved when the ground starts to crack?

When the grass tears at its roots,

when there is no turning back.


To whom will I have counted when I'm still beneath the ground?

When the cold clay swallows me whole,

when I have made my ending sound.


But why will it have mattered when I'm no longer here?

When my thoughts are no longer present,

when silence is drawing near.


Will I care when I feel it coming, will I even have a heart?

Why would I want to stay amidst the ruins?

So, when do I depart?