It’s not the effectively endless emptiness,
between clusters.
It’s not the appalling energy,
a trillion Hiroshimas in a box.
It’s not the devastating gravity,
crushing stars and eating light.
It isn’t that which scares me.
It’s not the dark.
It’s the indifference.
It’s the 93 billion light years,
where no experience occurs.
Where nothing gives a shit.
Surely the end of the Universe,
isn’t heat death.
Surely the end of the Universe,
is when there’s nothing left that feels.
