I heard my vent go "Hwhhhhhhh" and I wrote this:

The north-easterly wind blows through the sand crusted canyons, occasionally stirring the particles and loosening the bond of over one million years. Soon, there will be nothing left. All is silence but for the steady hollow blow, landing dry upon my ears as if I could hear the echo of civilization evaporate from the cracked rock of the earth. No more. Just the solid hum of wind decomposing monuments of time, like the hum of bees muffled by hands over ears--pressing the sound away. To be smaller. Strange, how such a tiny noise--the reverb of wind through arches of rock and the microscopic tinging of animate particles, dancing along the edge of the canyon--can be painful. I press harder against my ears to make it stop. Sand in my eyes, tears fall. Dust in my throat, cannot make noise. I stomp, but my weight is insignificant against the vastness of the desert earth--one stomping human being on the crust of the planet; it is absorbed immediately by the thirsting sand. I yell silently, but nothing is added or subtracted from the dying voice of wind. Not a ripple of sound across the wide sea of atmosphere as there is no receptive end but the two beneath my white fists.
I sink into the bed prepared for me: sand and stone. The earth rumbles. Years go by, then finally, and with mercy, the volcano erupts with the life breath of the inner earth--hydrogen-sulfide--and I fall asleep.