The End
Listen to audio read by good AI!
Yesterday, belligerent March attacked with a bomb cyclone. Today, calm settled upon the dismembered limbs of trees scattered in the streets, dusted with confectioners’-sugar snow. Some resolute leaves still cling to the mockernut tree by the road. We awoke to the icy sunlight and rumors of foreign wars in places where hard-hearted and stiff-necked tyrants, exceeding all limits and decent proportions for ambition, explode innocents, rend the flesh of children, of mothers, fathers, invalids, atomize the hopes of youth, the memories of the aged. With merciless disdain, violence, they crave Ozymandias’s fame — or even less. To them, slaughter seems small price to pay for the gilt of ultimate oblivion. All journeys end in this unmindful land, all strivings tend there, all dreams, all empires. All ends in brilliant oblivion, drenched in the icy sunshine, the silent calm, the peace after the tempest’s tantrum.