In the realm of a dying star
we revolve around.
Orbit
constantly falling.
Fast enough
to avoid crashing
But too slow
to escape
the pull of gravity.
Stuck in
a regular
repeating
path around.
A circle.
A revolution.
Disaster
means
"bad star."
Just like how
a snowball
turns
into an
avalanche.
A small
rocky
takes out
a species.
From that belt,
between
Mars and Jupiter
Gods of
War and State.
Watching
men
celebrate
murder
their words smell like farts