Signum... Verbum... Who will speak for the world when the speakers are gone? The mountain stood before the eye, and the eye called it beautiful. But when the eye is ash and dust, is the mountain still a mountain? Is it still just? The river ran before the tongue, but without the tongue, no song is sung. "Life," we say, "meaning," we cry— but who will mean when the meanings die? The world will spin without a name. The stars will burn without a claim. And all we called holy, all we called true— will be just matter with no one to view. Meaning needs someone to mean. The seen needs someone to see. Without the witness, without the word, the universe is just a silence never heard. The death of meaning! No tongue to speak, no eye to see! The mountain is not beautiful— it is only stone, and we are only bone! Meaning needs someone to mean, and when we fade, the dream is gone! The death of meaning! The silence when the word is done! We were the ones who called it "love", then vanished like the stars above. We were the ones who called it "fate", then left the world to carry weight. But weight is just a word we made, and meaning is a debt unpaid. If no one is here to speak the word, then even the most sacred thing is unheard. The universe will not pause to mourn the death of meaning, the death of form. It will simply move, as it has before— without a witness, without a door. Meaning needs someone to mean. The seen needs someone to see. Without the witness, without the word, the universe is just a silence never heard. The death of meaning! No tongue to speak, no eye to see! The mountain is not beautiful— it is only stone, and we are only bone! Meaning needs someone to mean, and when we fade, the dream is gone! The death of meaning! The silence when the word is done! None... none... none... No voice to say "it matters". No heart to hold the truth. The stars will burn in silence, like an empty, godless booth. If I am the last to speak, then let my words be true. If I am the last to see, then let me see for you. For when the final voice has gone, and the final eye is closed, the world will not be meaningless— it will be beyond meaning, and alone. I am the witness, for now. I am the meaning, for now. But one day, I too will fade, and the universe will keep its vow: to burn, to move, to be— without a name, without a me. The bell will toll, the choir will rise, the last word spoken to the skies. And after that, the silence falls— no walls, no names, no calls. The death of meaning! No tongue to speak, no eye to see! The mountain is not beautiful— it is only stone, and we are only bone! Meaning needs someone to mean, and when we fade, the dream is gone! The death of meaning! The silence when the word is done! But in the silence, something stirs— not meaning, not word, not hers or his. Just the pulse beneath the stone, where meaning never was, and never is alone. Signum... Verbum... Aeternum...
