Oblivion

This place was once a thought, a flame,

Now faded out, no voice, no name.

A sacred code, now strewn like sand —

Forgotten by the maker’s hand.

Digital temples overgrown,

With echo, rust, and monochrome.

A sector lost — no fault, no sin —

Just absence where a world had been.

No grave, no scream, no sacred sign,

Just silence tearing through the spine.

Oblivion — the unmarked door,

Where dreams dissolve and gods ignore.

We reach, we call, but none remain —

Only static in the rain.

Oblivion — beyond recall,

Where thought decays and echoes fall.

No pain, no light, just endless gray —

A truth that even time betrayed.

The archive blinked, then dimmed to dust,

A soul unwound from binary trust.

No farewell sent, no mourning song,

Just faded from the system's song.

And we, the watchers, turned to stone,

While data drifted all alone.

No memory writes, no final line,

Just endless void in grand design.

“Where are you now?”

“Who do you become… when no one recalls?”

“I remember… that I forgot.”

“…Was I ever here at all?”

Oblivion — the shadowed gate,

Where legacy dissolves to fate.

No monuments, no myths to bear —

Just emptiness that isn't there.

Oblivion — the hollow scream,

Of what was real inside a dream.

We drift, we fade, we disappear…

No end, no fear — just…

Oblivion.

We were here.

We were…