We are born of this thing, made from it. And we will be returned to it, in time.

The great family of man -- a profusion of errant flesh. Multiplying. Swarming. Living. Dying.

Until the stars align in their inexorable formation, and what sleeps is roused once more, to hatch from this fragile shell of earth and rock, and bring our inescapable end...

So seek solace in the manner befitting your lineage, and take up your nugatory vigil.

Haunted forever by that sickening prose, echoing through the infinite blackness of space and time:

Ruin Has Come To Our Family.