You Began in the Middle and You’ll End in the Middle of Ongoing Events, Guaranteed

You don’t really expect to live
To the end of the world, do you,
Not even of the human world?

To say nothing of Earth, the Sun,
This particular galaxy.
So what are you really dreading,

Other than having to exit
Yourself, leave the show you just joined,
Miss your children’s existences

Or your grandchildren’s, if any?
Has sorrow ever consumed you
That your great-great-great grandparents

Aren’t around? You’d probably wish
More for a good conversation
With some historical person

You admire who’s no relation.
If you leave scattered descendants,
They’ll suffer and thrive without you,

Likely without thinking of you.
So what is it you want from life,
What are you afraid life might do?

There will be a final human
Or final human descendant
Of some kind, but it won’t be you.