It won’t be an earthquake, tsunami, or disaster.
No nuclear war or ravaging disease. Not the second
Coming of Christ himself. None of those loud,
Grotesque conclusions. It will be subtle
Even gentle. A simple
Slowing, a quiet
Like a watch with fading battery, struggling
To keep time. Each tick growing laboured,
You’ll barely notice at first, your deep subconscious
Registering a change, nothing more.
Then the silence will swell, expanding
Like gas. And only as your chest heaves
Under its invisible weight, will you note the absence
Of that familiar metronome and wonder at last
How you missed it.