Terminus

He lies here in this bed...humanity, extinction, and everything in between.

But once, the wonders of the world hovered before him. The colors of the sky and the mysteries of the Cosmos combined with questions of Ethics and other Philosophies. Men and women loved, children of all ages played, and of course there was evil around in every corner...every nook within his cognition.

For eighty years he lived, and with him, the beauty and horror of creation flourished and waned, being defined by his thoughts and temperament. The world exploded before him, the universe expanded and contracted at his conception...humanity was given birth to but it also died, and though the spirit lived on, it ceased to have matter.

Then one day he felt a lump. Each day the lump grew larger and more painful. He became tired, unable to concentrate, and a fever created chaos with his thoughts. The earth tumbled, falling off its axis, spinning out of control, stars burst into fragments of dying light, planets imploded, becoming black holes that sucked all matter within their vortices.

He grew pale, and no longer moved from his bed, and all around him the flora and fauna turned gray, becoming just specks of what once were life. Men died and were never re-born, children ceased to grow, and also turned gray and insignificant, only this voice continued to grow, continued to record.

And now, weakened beyond recovery, his breathing is labored, his heart beats irregularly and falters, his mind jumbled, cannot distinguish between truth and fantasy, he takes a long breath, and exhales, light sparks behind his thoughts, creating a path that narrows through a tunnel, a burrow beneath everything he has conceived, everything he has created...and he breathes in deep once again, heavy, and it collapses and with it all things come....