The sun is young, but when it dies
Its monumental girth
Will briefly bloat to such a size
It swallows up the Earth.
And even if we’ve settled Mars,
What good is that when all
Remaining of our favourite star’s
A wizened clinker ball?
The universe is likewise doomed;
Its sum of energy
Must one day wholly be consumed
By dint of entropy.
No god has turned the lights out yet,
They’re shining brightly still,
But in the future you can bet
That astrophysics will.