The ever fading din of our heartbeats,
a somber dirge of failing flesh,
the final echoes of man,
no more than a whisper,
resonate into empty space.
This is the sound of the end.

Will we have left an everlasting mark?
Will our lifeless bones remain
to show the beats of our hearts?
Will the things we built
leave a message for the ages?
...that we were once here?
...that anything was here?

The main sequence is ended
then death becomes life,
diffused upon emptiness,
spreading divine light.

Generating the sphere

The light decays
into life
and we are but death
embodied in flesh.

Generating the sphere

From a distance,
and through the lens of time,
Chaos
seems still.

Generating the sphere

Our future foretold
by clouds in the void,
behind their beauty
lies their violence.

In this place
anything that grows is dying.
In this place
anything that dies is growing.

We
are
Nothing
All things
Becoming
Nothing

Time
is
Nothing
Forever
Becoming
Nothing­

Again
we
Become
Ourselves
Becoming
Nothing

Time and time again

One world to the next
Infinity and zero
Doorways that smolder

When pleasures are few
A moment of reflection
Becomes everything

We grasp at the sky
Found our own patch of blue
From blood, roots, and earth

We're all as dead,
as burned out,
as the stars that shine
above our heads.

We may shine as bright
and as blinding
as the sun
before we die.

Yet mere points are we,
in time and in space,
and the sum of all of us
is not enough
to illuminate the darkness,
the ever-growing darkness.

Not all shall die
and cease to shine
before their light
has reached our eyes.

But the night sky glows
with faded echoes
from long ago
weary from their journeys.

And so to shall we,
in time and in space,
traverse infinity
merely hoping
to illuminate the darkness,
the ever-growing darkness.