The sun will one day engulf the entirety of humankind.
Its ever-present flames will gulp down history in greedy swallows,
tearing away soils and sea and sky without preference or thought.
Nothing will be spared then, nothing will be 'special'.

I don't see the sense in worrying about the day that it comes down to,
in the end of things around us. No mystical words of hope or whispered phrases can prolong the chemical bonds of a supernova releasing in an outward blast of heat and fire and, eventually, death.

The fields of the Earth glitter in the early morning, oceans swell in contentment of the new morning's bright gaze, layers upon layers of creatures chitter in the dawn of a lavender sky. It's alive down here, alive and well. We won't know what hit us until we're all cinders.

It's comforting, actually. There's no anticipation. You won't know until you do, and then there's no more pain for anyone. Why should we fear it? Why not celebrate all before it and all after? Despite our disappearance, the universe goes on and on, infinite loops of infinity sprawling infinitely.

Kiss the wind, kiss your sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, parents, partners. Or don't. Fill the earth with laughter, tears, screams, whines, moans, and, in the end, rattles of breath. Or don't. The future cares not about your achievements, the sun does not choose the 'nice' people to burn last.

Worry about your present. The future is full of hypotheticals that are impossible to determine. Let not the fear of burning determine you, let you determine you.

After all, in the end, we're all humans. What makes you special is your own decision.