The Stars Will All Burn Out

The stars will all burn out one day.

But most likely, there will be many days before then,

Each one divided into portions

Of seconds and minutes, three hundred and sixty five

Of them, before the planet returns to where it left

Back when we started counting.

We use the sun to tell our time, but the sun

Knows nothing of minutes, seconds, or even years

She measures everything in centuries, at the minimum,

And eternity is not beyond the stretch of her imagination,

As it is ours, though even for her it is out of reach,

And daunting. One day, she knows, she will burn out.

She hopes not to be the last one to go.

For the thought of so much empty space,

Of a darkness without any light but hers, is too much to bear.

But she does not know what’s on the other side of darkness,

When she surrenders up her last flicker of light,

Consigning the void to the void, where she will find herself,

Or where the many lights, which went before, are gathered.

She imagines it to be beautiful, the other side of the coin

Which was sent spinning long before she came to be

And which will eventually come to a stop,

Slapped onto the back of the enormous hand of time

But she is sure she will miss her planets,

And the earth more than any of them,

For nothing delighted her more than seeing

Her third planet become a light of its own, a burgeoning star.

And every now and then, though she takes no notice of months, or years, or decades,

She sees that the earth has returned to where it had been, not long ago.

And it resets, and starts again, circling her

Until one or the other gives up their light.

And it’s hard to be sure, but to her,

Neither the least nor the greatest of her brothers and sisters,

But perhaps the most loved,

It seems as though the world is new, and today,

More than almost any day, the earth is delighted to see her.