Poetry: End of the Era

I was present when it happened.
I saw it all, from start to finish.

The rain stopped falling at 3 PM,
So I went outside for a walk
And happened to see it.

The sky had just turned a deep violet
Like someone mixing old blood and ink
And the moon was as bright as the sun.

Between the moon and sun,
Something began to tear open the sky.

I turned and ran.

With every step,
I could feel the air around me
As it began to heat up,
Sparks flying into the rip in the sky.

Of course,
I just had to trip
Within four feet of my door.

I landed on my back,
And so I couldn't look away
As the sparks gathered together,
A cloud of fireflies
Making plans for the future.

They pressed together tightly,
So tightly that they all bled into each other.

And then a finger made of fire reached down from the tear,
Sliding through the thin sky
To touch the ground around my house.

It drew a circle,
Large enough to encompass my porch
But no larger.

When the finger finished its work,
It slid into the line
And expanded
With a sound like a bomb.

Everything -
My house,
The land under it,
Myself -
Flew up into the sky,
Passing through that violet air.

All around me
I could see others
Hundreds of buildings
Hurtling skyward.

We never came back down.
I can see the ground below me
But I know I'll never touch it again.

No one has ever come here.
There are no airplanes now,
As far as I can tell.

All of the phones were cut,
And my cellphone can't get a signal.

I can see a house,
Just a few dozen feet from my door,
But I don't know if anyone's there.

This was almost a year ago.
My food's almost run out.

Tomorrow
I'll see how far I can jump.