Out there, planets are washed in fire and enveloped by massive expanding stars. Vacuous black holes are forming in the womb of space; enormous entities sigh in defeat and collapse upon themselves. Gravity draws them spiraling inward to the ravenous black holes, devouring cosmic material with the certainty and indifference of a whale swallowing millions of plankton in a slow, leisurely feed.

The lights of every sky are dimmed slowly and the final dance is underway. A last slow dance for a universe forever in-love with itself; self-aware, painfully infinite, lonely. Civilizations are engulfed in the stomach of the cosmos as it enjoys its last meal -- itself. Knowledge is erased. Memories are meshed and digested in the gullet of the beast.

It is a slow suicide.

The body is deteriorating. Shredded sinew and dissolving bone are the only remnants in places. The disease of self-destruction eats unwaveringly closer to the other side of the universe. The combined guiding consciousness of a universe finds each breath difficult to maintain. Eyelids rest heavily. Consciousness ebbs and flows. The hunger for rest is rushing for us, but not within our individual comprehension.

A harsh sigh is abruptly cut off and as the mass of empty space is vanquished of its last sparks, we find ourselves in the path of black fire. A swallowing throat of heat intent on possessing every last drop of matter.

The suicidal gluttony induces a painful explosion and again, a new universe is born. The cosmos is thrust from the belly of its former self -- all prior knowledge and progression and self awareness lost.

New.
Eager.
Time for everything, before it.