Some nights I think that the stars

Have died

Already died and these bright photons

Left over

Just waves of luminous spaghetti seen

End on

Millions of years from now will abruptly

Just stop

But I will never know being already

Dead too

Before all the old light is used up

And you

Whoever you are that remain planted

On earth

Will watch the last red-Dopplered quanta

So weary

With distance weighted with despair

Too tired

Even any longer to be but their message

Is clear

At last and you are the ones the

Only ones

Who will ever truly understand this

And believe

That all any person, plant, microbe, fire,

Or rock

Has ever done was to busy itself

With dying

And by now the ambient temperature

Of space

Having held steady at 3 degrees Kelvin

Almost forever

Begins to fall toward the black hole

Of zero

And what will you think as you feel

Yourself go

Wherever all of everything and the light and dark

Have gone