I am the last man.
Left with my nightmares in a blind land.
Only black and white remained.
Leaving me withered and stained.
I longed for a better time.
When people were said to be warm and kind.
A place of color and wonder we had forgot.
As civilization was left to rot.
Our indifference made us free.
Pushing us towards what we could not see.
Like the son of Daedalus we quickly fell.
All the way back down to our own built hell.
With approbational flames at every turn.
Hubris had left our fragile minds to burn.
Only a misguided desire to win.
Left man to bathe in his own sin.
The loss of a beauty we had forgot.
Knowledge our ancestry surely had not.
How long before we see those things again.
The colors we had so quickly stolen from our kin.
Having strayed far from the communal path.
A place of reasonable harmony we can no longer see.
As humanity drifts into the vast open sea.
Outward towards the boiling pelagic void.
We must find our place once again.
In our blessed light from deep within.
With our differing colors and cultures nothing was static.
The embodied lives our soul's could surely inhabit.
Many thought that we had become enlightened.
An age of rationale and categorization.
Left us alone and in deep contemplation.
We have been reduced now to only shades of gray.
This facile notion of unity pulling us towards the fray.
No one human is now truly unique.
In this new age of equitable critique.
I am the last man.
Left with my nightmares in a blind land.
Remembering only shades of green.
Of a forest I have not seen.
Standing on the edge now looking down.
Who knew how far we would go.
To destroy just all that we know.
Where there is no color for our hearts to gain.
We are left where only darkness can remain.
About the Creator
Tristin Robinson
I am a 24 year old man with a true passion for anything creative. I am a musician, a producer and a writer. My goals are to tell stories that resonate with other, no matter the medium.
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Requiem
There I was. Standing like an idiot in my dirty converse and a wrinkled suit coat. I was not the example of fashion at this occasion. Not knowing if I should sit or stand, I just stood. Like a post, the less I move, maybe the more no one will notice that I'm here. I glance around the room as my family breaks down around me. It smells of formaldehyde and a freshly vacuumed rug, with a pungant after scent of some citrus disinfectant spray. Flowers had been perfectly arranged around the room and the music, soft, un-offensive and boring. Made up of light pianos and what sounds like the dustiest organ from the ruins of a Presbyterian church service. My mother, eyes closed, looked to be at peace. She doesn't look at me though. She can't look at me. For here I stand at the side of my mother's coffin. This is my mother's funeral, and I feel as though I am empty. Not particularly sad, just vacant in mind and body.
By Tristin Robinson5 years ago in Humans
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