Chain me to a comet,
Drag me by the heels
Through a thicket of stars
And I may be bloodied,
There may be damage
In that fiery ricochet,
But if I hang
Upon a thorny nebula
My last and wasted rags
And if in millennia that
Iron umbilical is consumed
With age and perishes
And the comet dances free
I may clothe me
In hydrogen and dust
And be some regent
Morningstar, and pirouette
Across the event horizon
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