In time all galaxies will die
Stars will dim until we soak up the last of the light
No longer capable of sustaining life
Those daily grinds, hustles, and prayers
Become silly little games to distract
But what of the energy?
that spark that’s within us?
Stillness, frigid, dark
Eerily we’ll drift at leisure
Collide and converge in an orgy without pain
John Putignano 