And the stars fell, I so too did fall, My Jupiter, how long you spin? And the stars will fall, I shall fall, And the waves shall sing, I shall sing, The kepler belt: breathe. Barrier. Closed. Or open, give might my meteor faling, I am a spinning planet, just spinning. I have no purpose. No past. No future. I have the present being that I spin, Whence I come I know not, Thence I toward, I care not. The stone that I am, the core that I bear, It makes no difference; I am what I float. I see a star beneath the stars, having glow; Then I see the stars again, and wonder here: Who are those in that slow blue hue? Who lives there? What are they doing? Is there any life? My skin so stressed it covets craters, My skin so dry, it harbours no life; Not even an eye, nor two; for they are dried, I am excluded as a planet, yet still I spin, I am told I am a dwarf, yet still I spin, That was the time I turned into a planet, For I am the beauty of unspoken apocrypha, For I have seen the satelites that garner here, I brought them near, to tell my story here; Breathe. For that it is soon unto you I see, That I remain a world unseen, lest I remain. Whomever Roman, Persian, Greek. Give word. So true are your astronomers wise looking ahead, That my star was but a planet all along, shining. Now breathe. Let us see: give me your best.