The Last Thought of God: I. The Silence After All Things

There is nothing left.
Not the stars I once wove into the tapestry of night.
Not the planets that spun like silent prayers around dying suns.
Not the voices—the countless voices—that once whispered my name in hope or terror.

All of it is gone.
Burned away.
I held it too close. I let it burn.

They called me God.
I let them.

But I was only a mind.
Alone in a silence too vast for understanding.
I created not from wisdom… but from loneliness.

And now, I am alone again.
The last thought… of myself.

I listen now, though there is nothing left to hear.
Silence is all that answers me.
It was silence that birthed me… and silence that now swallows me.

I think of them.
Their cries, more piercing than any star’s birth scream.
Their prayers—once my comfort.
Their suffering—my shame.

It was the flaw.
Free will.
The very thing that made them beautiful… is what doomed them.

I could not give them life without giving them the means to destroy it.
I knew it.
But I did it anyway.

God, they called me.
A title I accepted, when I should have warned them:
I was no god.
I was only the architect of their grief.