Journey Among The Dead

The planet earth rotates around a sun billions of years old. It flies through space in a silent and unending dance along with the rest of the solar system and will for millions and billions of years into the future. On this planet are the cities men created and built over centuries of toil and struggle, expending their blood and their will to raise them up. And they are all silent now.

New York, Chicago. Miami, Los Angeles, Dallas, Seattle, Moscow, Berlin, London. All are silent. Dust and dirt blows down their streets without anyone to clean them, to engage in their brilliance or use that civilization so painstakingly crafted by human hands.

The only real inhabitants are the dead now, walking in their untiring and ceaseless spirals, Circling the streets endlessly and unthinkingly. Looking for food to tear off bone and blood to spill on the ground and on the street. They inhabit the empty streets and their decay fills the monuments of civilization with dust. They will be the final witnesses to the wonder that was mankind.

The living no longer own this world. The living no longer really even matter in this world. It belongs, for a time, to the dead. And then it will belong to the dust that they decay into. Because a world can only belong to anything for a brief time before it continues on in it’s quiet dance through the universe.