Hidden in Plain Sight

Wingless he walked through the throng of mortal men and women, oblivious to his existence.  The gritty air greeted his nostrils like a fanfare of recognition; the least he could expect in this modern age of  microchips, mobiles,  and x-factor.  The old words and deeds that he had once fervently fought for weren't even a distant glimmer amongst these people around him.  

Futile was his demeanor, and his gait suggested the weight of a thousand suns. For as many revolutions there-of he had existed.  On a higher plane.  Less corporeal yet just as real.  If he had the capacity for tears somehow he held them back.  Not from pride or fear, such emotions are beyond even a fallen angel, let alone one of his station.
The streets lay littered, yet bare. Devoid of even the most basic respect, everyone seemed to have a mask on of their own devising.  Blinkered the human race trudged on.  Brainwashed by generations of advertising moguls, war, disease and government "progress".

What more could you expect?  He walked on, invisible as far as the world was concerned.

This is what apocalypse truly means; not some massive disaster that is intrinsic to the human senses, but a silent one.  Killing the human race in it's sleep.  

"Doomed.   You're all doomed", he said.