There is comfort in the inevitable,

in a world filled to the brim with unknowing. 

Things don't last, not even cosmic bodies, bigger than our minds can possibly fathom. 

We'll die, right along with the stars, crummble away with the planets light years away.

The when isn't important, becuase it will happen, just like metal rusts, and empires collapse,

The inevitable death of the universe will come, becuase it must,

and there is comfort there, knowing I'm no different.