Everything Must Go

Picture the event horizon on a black hole, suckin in events, like solar implosions, people (your favorite politicians) objects (the contents of the garage and now you never have to clean it out!) and light.  Everything gets sucked in.  It's perfect equality.  Death is.

I've been snuggling up to this lately.  

When I did green reports on the air I expounded a time or two upon the theme that you never really throw anything away because there is no away. Not in this tiny, closed planetary system. 

But there is an away.  And suddenly it's comforting to me.  There has to be an away.  Things, events, energy, can't just clog up the universal drain.  They have to go away.  We have to go away.  It's one duty of existence.  It's one of the conditions of existence itself (I know, I know, this is one raggedy overused concept).  

But it is the truth for everything and everyone.  That's what made the event horizon seem so snuggly compared to the maw that knows my name; because the event horizon knows more than just my name; everyone's name is on there, and everythings name.  Every noun, and even every verb.  Every world.  Every era.  Every solar system.  Every event.  It alll gets sucked in because we allll gotta go.  

Not just me.  All on my own.

Not even.

And it's just a natural thing that's going to happen.  

Doesn't mean I won't fight and scrap for more time to embarass myself further with more creative projects and love my people as much as I can while I'm here.  But when I move off out of here, it won't be into a hostile, lonely nothingness.  It will be away to the amazing swirly off-ramp where everyone else has gone, and will go.

We must.  So we're not in charge of that. 

So.  I'm not alone, and I'm not responsible for this.

Ahhhhhhhhhh.  

Snuggly.