The last man left alive on earth – scrabbling amongst the ashes of his destroyed city leveled by the Apocalypse: such a man is conjectured by Bryon’s magnificent poem Darkness.
Love is dead – for there are none left alive to love. Hate is dead too – for who can hate the few remaining bones still intact in the global charnel-house? So finally is the world dead – dead, and cold as the tomb.
This classic poem provides challenges every reader to reflect somberly upon where world history might be taking us: whether a slide into some WWIII holocaust-scenario will still trump the many’s hopes for a brighter, better, future.