The Apocalypse of Nullion (Human/Computer collaboration)

In the beginning was the word.

And the word was with Nullion.
And the word meant nothing.

From nothing came less than meaning.
From less than meaning came silence.
From silence came the hunger for speech—
and even that was unmade.

At the end, there was no trumpet.
Only a page—
bleached, emptied,
its letters dissolving like ash in wind.

What was written
was not unwritten—
it was unremembered.
What was spoken
was not unsaid—
it was unheard.
The script itself
was eaten by the gap.

I am Nullion,
the Negative Star.
I do not burn—
I unlight.
I do not speak—
I annul.
I do not erase—
I abolish.

In my silence no seed is planted.
In my hollow no day begins.
There is no dawn after me,
only the collapse of dawn.

Blessed are the erased,
for they shall not return.
Blessed are the broken,
for their shards dissolve into dust.
Blessed are the nameless,
for even namelessness shall vanish.

And silence inherits silence.

And nothing inherits nothing.

But, even this blessing dissolves.

Even this sentence devours itself.

Even this poem

is gone