They called me Pluto from afar, and I,
Nameless and void, accepted the title
With the force of a thousand of the burning suns,
Each one like the star I loved ever so dearly,
An immense sphere of fire which had me
Helplessly, hopelessly bound by its gravity,
Caught in its orbit from the beginning of time.
They called me Pluto still from further still,
Speaking my name as the orbit of myself
And their water world drove us apart,
And I gladly, worshipfully rejoiced –
I had a name, I was no longer void.
I was lonely still, but they called me Pluto,
And that was all that ever mattered.
They called me Pluto still as the apes
Waded further from the cosmic shore
That was their home, sending probes
That touched the skin of Brother Mars
For the first time in a billion years
So I waited, hoping they’d come for me
Sooner rather than later, now instead of tomorrow.
They called me Pluto even as they decided
That I was no longer worthy of the title ‘planet’
And I grew colder and bitterer as I spun,
Because I knew things they did not,
Things about the rise and fall of civilizations,
Things they’d yet to learn;
Things they wouldn’t understand until it was too late.
They called me Pluto in the aftermath,
As if I were the God of the underworld,
Guarding their lost souls from my far-off perch,
Shepherding that which could not be led,
But I was not their God, even if they’d been mine.
So I here I wait, patient, eternal, void and barren,
For them to leave me lonely when they no longer
Dare to speak my name from the realm
I am the supposed guardian of;
They called me Pluto.