Absolute Zero Poem by Smoky Hoss

On the darkest night
I sit outdoors facing North.
I see the cold
far off...moving slowly toward me.
I turn my chair around,
facing South,
in search of hospitality; but
the cold is there also.

What is the past and the future?
Surely the very same being,
disguised only slightly different.
A way of seeing, or being seen.
A cold gaze, or a warm glance.
A fever, or a chill.
A haunting, or a calling.
Where are the ends of the universe, and:
How cold must it get, before
the warmth begins to return?

I leave the comfort of a chair,
lying down directly upon the old earth, and
look straight up into a trillion stars,
coming and going
through every night I will ever know.
Ironically, pondering the depths
of the coldest temperatures in the universe
I discover the greatest warmth,
the eternal nature of creation.
I no longer fear the cold,
for it shall never have me.
Now, I am forever warm.