Coldest Star Poem by Henry Tong

High above the treetop,
when the Arctic wind
glides upon the aurora
that soon vanishes to
the rosy tint of twilight,
there you are,
the coldest star.

Estranged in the thinnest air,
Aloof in the farthest end,
Away from smoke and fire of men,

Deserted in proud loneliness,
Strangled by defying gravitation
of the endless orbit. Once been
put haughty, you cannot resist.

Oh, the coldest star,
a shimmering dot from far.

People admire the crystal ruins,
the ashes on your scars, but
inside your passion in despair,
your soul is burning apart.

Consuming the vestige of heat
were the vaccum, the darkness
born in the vortex of time.

The Coldest star,
your heart once warm
but exhausted by a transient
charm, and from the bare
branches you hang in the air
when light travels in a
million year, in a path of
unfathomable maze of char.

The Coldest Star
the Coldest, star.