Oblivion

It seems within the stage that is our lives
The curtain is long fallen, departed.
A multitude of broken souls diminish
Fading, falling, unknown and unlamented

Blackened, vacant halls with not an echo to fill them

Are there words to fill this gaping emptiness?
A kind of salvation, hallowed light to pierce otherworldly gloom.
Even a momentary glimmer, a breath of strength.

What are we when the last notes fade?
Who are we when our songs are no longer sung?
In these empty, soulless spaces, there is naught left to play
neither horns, nor even the softest whispers pierce oblivion.

The longest shadow stretches over all
Tumescent, palpable apathy touched, fingertip light, with regret.
There is a lack, a soul-deep necessity
A clarion call for e'en the most ethereal of joy

Yet it is not shadow that blights our souls, our very substances
Nor is it oft' argued apathy, nor searing rage nor shame

It is nonexistence.