The Last Days of Here

It is cold here. Cold and white and empty. I stare out at the barren landscape as the ghost of a wind blows by, carrying with it a memory of sounds and smells.
Something moves in the distance. A ghost image of life floats on a noexistent river that flowed here many years ago. Something about it stirs a long-buried emeory within me. Or is it a feeling? I don't know. I have forgotten so much.
I close my eyes and let the wind that isn't here caress my cheeks. I spread my arms, smiling with joy for the first time in far more years than I care to remember.
But when I open my eyes again I see only a lifeless wasteland. I stop smiling.
Storm clouds are piling up against the mountains in the east. I can no longer see the treeline. All the trees are long gone.
Rain pours from the dark purple clouds. Once life-giving, it has now changed to tears, tears I myself am unable to cry.
Even the ruins are long gone now. Plants tore them apart. Storms and earthquakes broke the once proud towers to pieces. For a while animals, those few who remained, found shelter amongst the fallen rocks.
I remember happier days, when the castles were filled with life, humming with joyful energy. When people, My people, lived happily under the sky, a sky filled with beautiful cloud patterns and constellations.
I remeber the ships. Proud dragons, swans and wolves, sailing all seas and braving all storms. They returned from faraway lands with tales and treasures. I used to be on the docks when they came.
The small green dragon returned one day with tales of a mystic gate shrouded thick fog and protected by a dangerous reef. The gate led elsewhere, they told.
People went through it and returned with tales from elsewhere. Then some people moved there. And when we realized what was happening to here, entire cities emptied.
The rain has passed now and the last rays of the sunset bathes the land in glittering blood.
They left for elsewhere, everyone but me. I sawe the last dragon farewell. They left me a small swan so I could follow them.
I wandered through the empty palaces and temples for days on end. The gods left with the last wolf to cross.
Sunrise again. I watch it. Time has lost all meaning now.
In the beginning I was lonely, but that, too, has also lost meaning.
I have forgotten so much. The taste of food. The smell of flowers. The sound of laughter. The feeling of another's touch.
Days pass. I stand here watching. I can feel the land weakening. It is dying now.
We are linked, here and I. We share a soul. That is why I could not, cannot leave. It would tear our souls apart.
A distant sound reaches my ears, and I turn my head.
A little bird is flying towards me. I lift my hand i greeting and it lands on my finger, looking at me curiously, questioningly. It is blue and yellow-green with small, black eyes. It weighs nothing at all.
The bird chirps and I smile, stroking the feathered head with one finger. I lift it up and blow on it. "Fly," I whisper. With one last chirp, it launches itself towards the sea and the gate there.
I keep watching. Waiting.