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I am a soul that has witnessed the birth of countless galaxies, of a myriad of stars and an immeasurable number of worlds. I have seen and lived and loved and lost lives that eclipse the scattered count of celestial bodies known to a thousand - thousand civilisations. And now I am at the end of it all. The beach has but one grain of sand.

The worlds are gone, their suns extinguished. The great crucibles of stars have departed, all potential for new life has faded with them. Light is a dream, sound an echo from a dead past. All that remains at the end is time, and a memory.

Her name is as lost as the world I was born to, a blue planet, a pearl amongst many other pearls. Her face is a shade to me, gone with the dying light. Her voice is muffled in my thoughts, sharing in reality's crippled harmony. She has fallen like the rest, into the obscure, out of my mind. However...

When worlds saw two suns, not knowing the dark or the cold, only the twin angels that kept them safe and happy, I pictured her eyes. When war was waged across hundreds of stars, a great fire through space, those who witnessed it saw an unnatural and frightening beauty to behold, yet I saw her eyes. When the universe was old, when the clustered remains of once bright galaxies would glow and fill the last planets with an aurora, a shimmering energy that would not allow fear, or pain, or sadness, only joy for the glory bestowed upon those few who had lasted eternity to see it. For me, there were only her eyes.

At the end, when only time exists, there are her eyes. The only memory left to me.

I could muster up all of my energy, I could shout out into the nothingness: “LET THERE BE LIGHT!” And all light and life could be reborn in a flash, a spiral of cosmic power. I could be God and the Universe and Consciousness, an everlasting spirit, the Everything! A chorus would signify the renewal of it all, mountains would groan and grow, seas would crash and laugh, people would know only love, and it would be within their power, as could be in mine, to shout “LET THERE BE LIGHT, LET THERE BE LIFE!” and they too would become fathers to an infinite universe. Entropy would have no meaning, death would have no meaning, life and love and light would be all!

Yet if the memory of her eyes did not exist, I would not want to exist. Even in that splendour. Despite all of the wonder, and all of the colour, I would wish only for the grey.

At the ruin of it all, I see only her grey eyes, and I live on.
The Last Man is an irregularly written story concept about the one remaining human after the death of his race, an immortal man left floating in the depths of space for eternity. Find the first piece of The Last Man story here:
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Submitted on
February 18, 2015
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