the wind howls
down through
the empty streets
whipping up the trash
of another failed attempt
at civilized domination
gone the way
of the dinosaurs
into the land
of tar soaked bones
lost to the annals
of history
a lone silhouette
stands
in the tower
at the center
of the fallen bricks
that once made
a staggering metropolis
of glass and concrete
to fall into
the wretched eyesore
of humanity’s last
tragic stand
watching for signs
of rebirth
the singular luck
of lightning striking
primordial ooze
to force life
from the soup
of elemental urgency
one that could not be
replicated again
with a million million
errant blasts
yet still the figure stands
patiently waiting
as the earth reclaims
the sediment
that was so painstakingly
plumbed from depths
into monolithic doom
as one dream
fades into obscurity
there is always another
to frantically try
and usurp the throne
of divine desire
in the hearts
of those that watch
from the shadows
those that placate the forces
from the other side
of the rapidly thinning veil
of time
to topple the monarchy
of emptiness
that rules
in the spaces between
life and thought
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
I adore the way poems translate, then shape and form thought with the few words chosen. It seems endless.
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That’s a lot of ideas in one poem. A lot of food for thought. Your poem could have been called, alternatively, “The Monarchy of Emptiness.” This world may be characterized by loneliness, emptiness, and dissatisfaction, but that may indicate that there is another world of connection, fulfillment and satisfaction, a world that is the opposite of this one, a world where we really belong. Many people scoff at the idea, but nihilism doesn’t seem more true than faith, to me. And the other world, if there is one, does not require physical death to get there, but it might require a change of mind and a corresponding change of perspective. Just my two cents.
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