End of the World, by Patricia Martin

I was very briefly shown the end of the world 

just a glimpse is all you need 

It was flat and grey with an odd filmy essence you could call celestial fog 

that neither high beams nor low beams could penetrate  

and it had no dimension whatsoever 

just an expanse of nothingness 

drifting, drifting into more nothingness

apparently for all eternity 

that is, if the end can be considered an eternity

I, for one, am not sure 

except I know what I have seen

For a long time I had stopped watching the news 

so over-stimulating 

with its disturbing, graphic images 

garish dancing banners 

and the ceaseless yammering of well-coiffed talking heads 

And now 

since my intimate vision of oblivion 

I have stopped reading it, too 

except for the occasional headline 

which is more than enough 

to reaffirm 

that we are a most vain, 

idiotic,

and destructive species 

And I am convinced 

that when the planet has finally had a bellyful of our nonsense 

magnificent nature will carry on beautifully 

and,

in her infinite wisdom, 

unceremoniously dispose of us 

as so much cosmic dust 

to drift in the flat grayness of nothingness.