It might be another asteroid,  

                        or maybe a comet;  

it might be a spike in the solar wind,  

                             or a spurt of neutrinos;  

it might be the eruption of all the volcanos  

                                 found along the ring of fire. 

Or it might be our inherent longing for extinction,  

                                      as insuppressible as greediness. 

 
     Yet we are human, and will be to the last,  

     the most noxious and marvelous being  

     that has ever occurred in the galaxy.  

     Untamable, controversial, foolish.  

     Unique, and united in one fate.  

     The bizarre fate of sentience,  

     and of all it has conferred 

     apparent existence on. 

 
But thirty seconds from the end, the very end of everything, when not the slightest bit of hope is left, we can still give absolute sense, more than ever, to anything, anywhere, anywhen. To reality and the multiverse itself, to our condemnation to oblivion and nihility, to our inconsequent life span. And nothing do we care about, anymore, but looking each other in the eye one last time and, as the inevitable happens, in front of eternity saying   

I love you.