that lonely, taciturn satellite
what goes on in the heart of a dying star
circling around it her children
clinging dearly before the curtain calls
before the light goes out
unwitnessed by audience of man
lightyears away
and what of the moon
what of the romantic, endearing goddess of the wolves
worshipping its lover, the pale blue dot in the sky
she speaks gently to the tides
to light and to time
to children awake at night
to the ripples, its light
what comes to her amidst the end of all
when her celestial freezes dry
that poor, poor satellite
waltzing for an ice globe that pays her no mind
orbiting prayers without a mouth
requiems with no sound
her glow persists
lightlessness clings to her yet she is seen
what is grief if not love preserving
what is an end if not for a new beginning
she shall live another day
until a sun rises and lights a brand new day