Q.R. Quasar imagines the end of everything: a far-future universe that has burned through its energy and slipped into a kind of coma. The poem pictures the Cosmos as a living thing that once "heaved and heaved and heaved in fire," then goes cold. Atoms stop holding together, matter drifts apart, and nothing is left to speak, record, or even remember. The word "entropy" sits alone on its own line, as if the poem were naming the culprit.
The speaker sounds less panicked than stunned, looking at a loss too large to grieve properly. Even songs, the poem suggests, must fade, however long they run. The repeated "the bleakness blankets" works like a slow tolling bell, and the twist on the old tree-falling-in-the-forest riddle, with no eyes left to hear it, makes the silence feel total. The mood is hushed, cold, and final, ending on the blunt phrase "terminal nothingness." The title, which mentions Bhairavi, seems to hint at a musical farewell, though that is only an inference.