Perpetual Perishing

"Urizen in Prayer" -- by William Blake
(Like saying "God in Prayer," except more complicated)

A dark meditation~

The problem is that the void isn't looking back.

If it were, that would imply some sort of sentience. But the consciousness seems one-sided. I could deal with a thinking emptiness, but a total vacuum with no memory, desire, or hope eradicates every fiber of our humanity. It's that mirror that terrifies; the abyss isn't looking or listening. You're on your own.

Some day the universe will reach its arch and curve back in on itself, or it will spin forever into the expanding darkness, until even atoms decay. Nothing will be remembered. Nihil. Lethe will wash our bodies away and swallow herself. Dark matter, dark energy, keep flinging us away from each other. We wanted to clump together; we sought out each other, and we cling to each other. That’s gravity; that’s love. But no. Our universe's mass isn't great enough to be reborn. That love wasn't strong enough.

Stars will be birthed and destroyed, eons and eons, until the void takes us all. We’ll all go join Satan and his legions in the outer darkness… of nonentity, the deepest hell.

But then, when we’re all there… with our decayed particles that once meant something, when they all mean nothing, and there is no more strife, no more good, no more evil -- the entire universe will be at rest, fallen into the void of itself. No more joy, no more love, no more sickness or killing or murder. No more anything. No more words. But all together in our nothingness.

No child will be remembered, no sacrifice, no creature. God will finally decide that the memories of trillions and trillions of years are enough, that God’s own purpose is fulfilled and it’s time to die. And it will be the end. God will reunite with Satan-- all will be forgiven. Maybe it's heaven. No one will matter more than anyone else. It will be equality in the abyss.
Except we won’t be anything.

There’s a certain beauty in nonentity. Now as an entity, I can predict my own nothingness. Someday, long before the universe's own death, I will be absolutely meaningless. No one will remember me. No one will have the slightest idea that I ever existed. Nothing I love or loved will remain either. But it does not change that I love.

If our fate is already written, and we still choose to think and feel and struggle for the small slice of eternity we’re given, we were something in the face of the void.