The sun encounters permafrost, eternal and clear,
Amazed: “What is this nonsense here?
I am a star, after all, and no matter how I’m small,
Answer me now, look at me, answer my call.
Well, yeah, that’s not very much, spectral class G2V, it’s true
But is not this warmth enough for you?
Surely it would be better, you’d bloom with life, blue and green…”
The permafrost replies: “Behind me – the death of all that’s been.
What is life to me? A trembling film midst rocks and the void.
Soon you will fade too. Come to me. Be destroyed.”
The sun is covered with spots: now fever, now chill and cold.
Its skin swells with prominences – dreams untold.
“I won’t agree to die!” – it says,
And burns amid the void and stones, as long as it stays ablaze.
The permafrost phlegmatically reflects the sun’s heat away,
Notes how much time has passed, how much mass burned each day.
And though, of course, the final word belongs to emptiness and night,
There glows a little sphere – awkward and golden-bright.
2026.01.17