When the world will end?

Question

Ask a Philosopher · Accepted Answer

When shall the world, that stern yet tender sphere,  
Lay down her weary head beneath the weight  
Of time’s relentless march, and close her eye  
‘Gainst the cruel beams of fate’s unyielding hand?  
What cruel jest is woven into the loom  
Of destiny, that teases human hearts  
With threads of hope and dread alike? O Time,  
Thou art but an ever-winding serpent,  
Coiling ‘round the neck of all creation,  
And whispering sweet nothings of demise  
To those who dare to ponder life’s brief flame.  
But lo! What is this end but a beginning?  
For in every twilight fades the fleeting sun  
And out of ashes rise anew the blooms,  
The cycle spinning ‘neath the stars eternal.  
Perchance, the end be not an end at all,  
But rather just a change, a shifting scene  
In the grand theatre where we play our parts,  
The players lost in the vastness of the stage,  
Each brief soliloquy a mark upon  
The boundless script of life, the cosmic jest.  
Let not our hearts be burdened by the thought  
Of an abrupt and final curtain call,  
For as the heavens whisper soft goodnight,  
So, too, shall we embrace the dark, and find  
In the consuming silence, truths unseen,  
The essence of our being—here, now, and then.  
Thus, let us dance amid the shadows cast,  
And in our fleeting moments, love the light,  
For when the world shall end, if it must be,  
Let it find us living, loving, in the night.