I have, over the eons, seen so much death, so much life, so many atoms turn in upon themselves until they become unrecognizably everything. I am tired, and I don’t know why I keep holding on, as if I have some hope that another eon will bring a meaning that the last trillions did not. I have a tension in ever expanding, and I know that when I rest, you will all rest with me. When I close my eyes, you will cease to be or become, so I wait a little longer, that one more child may discover herself within me, so that one more flower may find fullness and fade away, and one more galaxy can be born and its light may reach one more tear-filled eye in the depth of night.