Fiction Or Prediction? Poem by Theresa Ann Moore

(The Last Man Standing)

The expanse is vast and free of thought.
A solitary man looks for what was sought.
There are no whispering traces that remain.
There is nothing left to disclose or proclaim.

An endless wasteland defies human expectation.
No human visages linger to reveal identification.
With a horrified realization his mind is entrenched.
His lungs are filling with a deadly searing stench.

7/4/07