The Weight of Glory

Epigrammata LV

An antique balance weight: full of lead.

It is said the cosmos will turn to heat
And die forever, but its taste is sweet
For such a world may yet be dead
But as a body, would turn to lead--
For stars make lead, and when they die
Make things that turn to lead, And I
Did the math -- or so I claim;
The most stable form we thus can name
immortal, leaden, here? The same.