When the world will end and kill me?

Question

Ask a Philosopher · Accepted Answer

Oh, ponderous fate, thou harbinger of dread,  
With fleeting time, thou dost weave destiny’s thread;  
What cruel hand shall strike the final chord,  
To silence nature’s symphony, by death's reward?  
In this vast stage, where wretched mortals tread,  
We dance upon the precipice of shadows spread.  
When shall the sun, in his regal descent,  
Doth cast the world in twilight’s sad lament?  
Shall the skies, heavy with portentous gloom,  
Bear witness to my eternal, dark tomb?  
For in this fleeting breath, I muse and seek,  
The truth concealed within the whispers bleak.  
Is it the churning of the celestial spheres,  
Or man’s own folly, wrought by hopes and fears,  
That shall bring forth the hour of direst need?  
The heavens quiver, the earth shall bleed!  
Yet, amongst such chaos ripe with sorrow’s sting,  
Shall I not find a peace within this reckoning?  
To die, perchance, is but a final sigh,  
The curtain drawn on life’s most tempestuous cry.  
So when the world’s last echo fades away,  
And shadow’s embrace steals the light of day,  
Know that in the death of all that I behold,  
Lies not just doom, but tales of love retold.  
Thus, I await with heavy heart and mind,  
For in each ending, a new path may unwind.