I was thinking on something Carl Sagan said about the last perfect day on Earth. One day, in the far future, the sun will one day change from the happy main sequence star we know, to a bloated red giant—many times its original size, engulfing the entire inner solar system.
We are standing on the shore of an aquamarine sea,
peacefully looking up at the bright yellow sun,
a breeze blowing through a leafy green tree.
Hand and hand we felt the world turn
under our star’s ancient gaze,
together for the last of the perfect days.
We talked of all that had come before,
of the world’s great epochs:
the era of slime and rocks,
the time of life abundant
and this the end of it all.
In the sky, no birds will soar.
The human race will see its home no more.
Breathless we watched the sun swell and bloat,
its warmth gave out like a breath leaving a throat.
And holding each other tight,
Patiently waiting for the endless night,
Preceded by the expanding Autumn-red light,
here on the last perfect day on Earth.