The Dark is all; awesome, absolute. Ineffable expanse of absence
that ceded to the cosmic chaos, so night and day were born.
The waters flowed and heavens formed, the Dark released its hold.
From her depths, she freed the might and light of ten-thousand suns
but as a spark suppressed, this light would universal lightlessness become.
Power and heat are cloistered in her core; she has scant use for them.
Yet from the Dark all that was and is, became. Galaxies and planets
with their spinning moons, bask but for a moment in the glare of stars.
From within this madding motion, languid life emerged.
Clasping to the hem of darkness, crawling into daylight, it converged.
Fretful, fragile, futile life. Fearful of the finite dimming glow.
Millennia mass and melt as centuries chase across her chilled domain.
In her eternal patience, Dark awaits and follows not the hour.
Time, that mocker of mortal men, for her it has no say.
It flows and ebbs and flows again, like an ocean\'s fickle tidal sway.
But the Dark will rouse one awful day. She will rise and rest no more.
The final fire will fizzle out and with a flicker end the vigil on man\'s ways.
Earth and its borrowed time will flee with faint-lit stars into her depths.
Suns will shrink and freeze and spinning moons will slow then stall.
Life\'s lease, so brief is now extinct. Perfect in her desolation; Darkness is all.