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A recorded reading of “Floating in the End Times”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
Into the sky, out of the dirt, we rise, we drift— leaving behind the hurt. We float around, hang out in the clouds, the world below, a ghostly shroud. We wish away lives, we whisper goodbyes, the stars blink out like closing eyes. Nothing remains; the world is done— a silent farewell beneath a dying sun. We hover, weightless, in the void’s embrace, letting go of time, of place, of space. In this quiet end, no more to cry— just us and the clouds, drifting by.
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