Weighing just grams and razor thin it holds against a force that carves mountains and washes away cities and drowns life.
Grown in time to see the end of the world. Wilted leaves and dry brown nutrient depleted soil. Short frigid days. The ground littered with decaying red ancestors and many more just missing. An unshakable freezing sensation around the stem. In a state of green, ironically the color of inexperience. Never ripening to any potential. It was grown too late and left to itself in a dying world. The last tomato.
To see the sun you must burn your eyes. A sacrifice to beauty and creation. The creator of dust, the elements, of life. It gives us everything and burns everything away as we avert our eyes. While you can, gaze into its beauty and burn your eyes.
Forever you felt its warmth and cherished and adored it and took it for granted that it would always be there. Then it sets as is its nature and you have forgotten the warmth in yourself and you go into the cold alone to watch it go and say goodbye. On a barb in the darkness you get caught and feel pain. There is a trickle of warmth and in the pain you know what you’re made of and that gives you strength to fight the cold. It’s in your blood. Your own warmth.