Wishing for some kind, cold, trans-Neptunian darkness in zir migrained state, Fay Roberts circles in late with a tribute to a contested celestial wanderer who headed further out on this day in 1999.
This mournful song, this frozen king;
in mysteries of glowing ice
heavenly bodies cross and swing.
Join hands and chant around the ring,
and hearken how he paid a price;
this mournful song, this frozen king.
Tell him: no more curtseying,
democratise this frozen slice
where heavenly bodies cross and swing.
His numbers always dwindling,
though most refuse to sacrifice
their mournful song, their frozen king.
And chaos shuns quick measuring.
A simple tune? That’s far too nice
for heavenly bodies crossed to swing
So children, if you’re wondering…
pay homage still, that’s our advice
with mournful song, your frozen king
whose heavenly bodies cross and swing.
- FR
 |
| An artist’s impression of the surface of Pluto in response to data from the European Southern Observatory’s Very Big Telescope (seriously - that’s what it's called!); image description in alt-text. |
No comments:
Post a Comment