My Empty Space.

I fear that deep, dark, cold, of outer space
it mocks my feeble spark of being, so,
it's up there, lurking, but so in my face
with its life bringing age-old big bang glow.

It's waiting for my cold scattered ashes
this foul, soulless, dead, still eternal thing,
to take my atoms like so much trash is
taken by trash carts, still, I'll cling and cling...

It's the rotten fixed fate of emptiness
I shall not get to leave a space behind,
this soap-bubble of my brief consciousness
will blink, snuffing out my life-spark, my time.

But that vast blasted space will just expand
Feeding on dark energy of us, damned...