Song of the Wasteland

Tomorrow never came, the skies burned and churned and the world turned but tomorrow never came.
Time passed, but nothing remained, denuded building like dead trees populated the graveyards of cities, places that had forgotten their names.
The sun might rise and set, but tomorrow still hasn't happened yet.
I walk these wastes, I remember her name. I camp under the starless skies, dreaming of the invisible moon, perhaps the nuclear clouds will be gone soon. 
Each night I say my prayer, asking for her safe return, mumbled in bleak monotones, knowing that should she be dead, I will never know her bones. 
The graveyards of men are bleached calcium under the unforgiving sun that blasts through the persistent haze like a petulant God punishing everyone. 
The ghosts of the blameless dead howl in the arid winds, the pocked earth cries under the radiated rains, I cannot wish her alive in this world gone insane.