.
.Pluto
On the
edge of our solar space,
Has God of the underworld his place,
Wickedness and misery his mark,
His home, the cold and perpetual dark.
Why
could the ancient not resist?
A dwelling for non-existence to exist?
Was man hunted by his own -
Depth of darkness to be drawn down?
A fear
of the unknowable reality -
Created Pluto - to play with morality,
God of the underworld - there to torment,
Those who were bad and wouldn't mend.
Of a
powerful God he wore the mask,
Yet what is Pluto? - We still ask,
Strange aspects of his orbits lead to see,
That Pluto could have been an escapee.
He is
a planet - has been the decision,
Also we know little of his composition,
Only the largest telescope will sight,
Pluto - he is but a dot of light.
Written by Henriette, 2003