The Celsius Sunset

I heard the news today.
The Sun can be a harsh mistress,
but your ran your race with pride and fervor.
Unmatched by the flesh of any man.

It will be cold.
It will be lonely.
And beautiful friend, it will be the end.

I told them that seventeen was far too young,
but they only recited numbers louder. And turning to run to your side, they told me I would run out of air before I was even close enough to hear your death song.

The angles will sing of it for all eternity.
Of this I'm sure.

So be brave when the blood freezes in your veins. Know that I'm missing you. Know that Earth and the Sun and the populous of both will cry in your passing.

Rest easy, good friend.