“Humanity returns to the sun to give thanks as the sun depletes its hydrogen and begins to expand into a red giant”

Upon the old world’s silver rim  
Where cities shimmer, specter-thin,  
A voice of Earth calls to the light—  
A hymn for Sol, both fierce and bright,  
As ancient hydrogen, nearly done,  
Fades in the heart of our honored sun.

Ships gather, petals on the breeze  
Of cosmic wind and starry seas;  
Forged from rain, from rock and code,  
They bear a humble, gleaming load:  
Humanity, with memories hoarded,  
With circuits singing, flocks recorded.

Across the void, petitions rise—  
Not with fear, but with grateful eyes,  
For all the dawns they watched unfold  
On fields of wheat, on domes of gold,  
For seasons wrapped in solar fire,  
For stories sparked by its empire.

The sun, immense in its slow distress,  
Grows ruddy-clad, and dispossessed  
Of youthful flame—now vast and grand,  
It readies to scorch the scattered land.  
Yet we come not with pleas to stay  
Its cosmic, red, unyielding sway.

We circle close, where rivers ran,  
Where trees once stretched to catch its span—  
We thank, in sorrow and in song,  
For days when shadows had not grown so long.  
For gardens green and laughter spun  
In the warm embrace of a tireless sun.

Turned now to embers, the reckoning flows—  
The end that every bright life knows;  
Yet, as it widens, fierce and slow,  
We mourn, we witness, and we grow:  
We thank the star that gave us rise,  
Then scatter hope across the skies.

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