An Ending
In the empire of light, the king is Death.
As he moves in space, time shows all his wake.
Dark is his image, more hot than the sun.
Still faster he moves, each race he has won.
Even Chaos quakes and man too, does shake
For when the light shifts so slowly to red
Nothing is found dead, nothing more to make.
No longer reason for mankind to dread.
Nothing but silence then to partake
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