Cosmic Death
A hollow vessel contains one last pair of lungs.
Floating, traveling, a drift among a sea of stars.
One purpose, seeking redemption.
Or perhaps, forgiveness?
With no place to call home,
a new light must be found within the darkness.
To challenge the silent pull,
Is to court death.
“All callsigns be advised,
oxygen levels dropping below 5 percent.
I repeat, oxygen levels dropping below 5 percent.”
Tell them not to come back.
This is bigger than us.
Secure the new light.
Lowering to his knees, rage and fear take control.
Staring through solid glass into the vast emptiness,
No thoughts, no words.
Just an empty endless supply of dread.
“All callsigns be advised…
Those stars are already dead.”
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