An acerbic wash of green sickens the skyline
a chemical spill boiling, slowly spreading,
towards a barren hill.
A lone wanderer stands in silence amidst the moaning wind
surveying a scorched land painted gold
by slanted rays of light through parting clouds
like plumes of smoke in shades of charcoal and ash.
All that remains is dry as bone-
a city rising out of a wash of grey-
skeletal forms of humanity's proudest achievements-
and the remains of trees which take the form of monsters long forgotten,
shrouded in the dust of ruin.
Evening's last tongues of flame soon give way
to the obsidian ice of night.
The Wanderer raises their eyes to the heavens,
the backdrop for priceless jewels
that appear like the glittering dust of a broken mirror-
a crystal smashed to pieces-
stars that burn with fury from the past
projecting their prisms of light across a blacklight sky
for a lonely wanderer's eye to see-
A sky on fire.