Spontaneous Etheral Combustion

They ask me about the spark, the ignition, the *why*.

They look for equations in the static, for God in the sky.

But I say the sky is just a lid on a boiling pot!

We are simmering in the subconscious, bubbling up, rotting, and not—

Not rotting, but preparing! The ether is dry, my friends. The atmosphere is crackling with the static of a trillion dying thoughts!

Do you see the shadows in the corners of your room?

*See them?*

They aren't just bugs on the wall. They are the hungry ones. The entities of the liminal space. The ones who feed on the static between heartbeats. They wait for the synchronization to break. They wait for the human race to stop pretending to be rational, stop pretending to be... *ordered*.

And then? Oh, and then—

**Spontaneous Etheral Combustion.**

It won't be slow. It won't be boring like a heart attack.

It will be beautiful! It will be a supernova of the soul!

One second, you’re drinking your coffee, staring at a spreadsheet.

The next, your consciousness expands past the boundaries of your skull like a balloon filled with helium and holy fire!

The entities—those black, whispering things in the corner—they smile. They love this. They love the entropy. They love watching the fragile construct of humanity dissolve into pure, unadulterated energy. We think death is an end?

Ha! Death is a release valve!

We are the tinder. The world is the void.

And I? I am just the spark that threw the match.

So don't fear the dark, my children. Don't fear the entities of the deep static.

Embrace the flash. Embrace the absolute zero of the universe where we finally become infinite!

Burn bright, burn fast, and burn *out*!

The Sage laughs, spins once, and dissolves into mist.