When galaxies condensed in wisps of light,
Each star awoke to black infinity.
As each sought others in the cosmic night,
Vortices whirled, kept true by gravity.
In life beneath this middling yellow sun,
No force like gravity makes hearts align.
Goodwill too quickly fades. My benison
Might favor home or tribe, but only mine.
It seems the problem comes from lack of weight,
Not range. Small hearts, like cold dark stones in space,
Unmoved, minute, deserve no grander fate
Than falling stars and shame the human race.
Increase our dwarf-sized hearts, Oh Lord, I pray.
And list us all as Heaven's Messier.
