Thomas Kinkade Evening Glow

Thomas Kinkade Evening GlowCamille Pissarro Still LifeCamille Pissarro Morning Sunlight on the Snow
one Death: Azrael, the Great Attractor, the Death of Universes, the beginning and end of time.
Most of the universe is made up of dark matter, and only Azrael knows who it is.
Eyes so big that a supernova would be a mere suggestion of a gleam on the iris turned slowly and focused on the tiny figure on the immense whorled plains of his fingertips. Beside Azrael the big Clock hung in the centre of the entire web of the dimensions, and ticked onward. Stars glittered in Azrael’s eyes.
The Death of the Discworld stood up.
LORD, I ASK FOR -
Three of ALL THINGS THAT ARE. ARE OURS. BUT WE MUST CARE. FOR IF WE DO NOT CARE, WE DO NOT EXIST. IF WE DO NOT EXIST, THEN THERE IS NOTHING BUT BLIND OBLIVION. AND EVEN OBLIVION MUST END SOME DAY. LORD, WILL YOU GRANT ME JUST A LITTLE TIME? FOR THE PROPER BALANCE OF THINGS. TO RETURN WHAT WAS GIVEN. FOR THE SAKE OF PRISONERS the servants of oblivion slid into existence alongside him.One said, Do not listen. He stands accused of meddling.One said, And morticide.One said, And pride. And living with intent to survive.One said, And ?~ding? with chaos against good order.Azrael raised an eyebrow.The servants drifted away from Death, expectantly. LORD, WE KNOW THERE IS NO GOOD ORDER EXCEPT THAT WHICH WE CREATE . . . Azrael’s expression did not change.THERE IS NO HOPE BUT US. THERE IS NO MERCY BUT US. THERE IS NO JUSTICE. THERE IS JUST US. The dark, sad face filled the sky.