sitting outside under starlight.
breathing in the atmosphere and million year old earth.
with you, counting constellations and pretending for awhile that nothing else exists.

we will orbit the sun and the planet will rotate like the hands of a clock spinning round and round until time runs out. perhaps at the end of time we will supernova like stars; our remnants will glow colorful and beautiful and shining, but we will be dead. and in our remains will swirl tiny pieces of us all mixed up with matter. people will look at us through telescopes to study what we used to be.

or maybe I will collapse in on myself and twisting, become a black hole.
******* in every star and planet and ray of light until nothing is left. the people, with their telescope eyes, will stare and wonder how I came to exist.
but I will know. and spend the rest of that existence chasing stars to fill the void.