Somewhere between Pluto and Mars,
there’s an astronaut artist who’s lost to the stars.
His tether broke off, ecliptic to birth—
constellation he flies, gone man of the Earth.
Outlining black holes, painting them blue,
nebula sketches of planet and crew.
Forever in glide, drifting away—
astronaut orbiter, forever he’ll stay.
Somewhere between Pluto and Mars,
there’s a man who set out to reach for the stars.
Through blessing or curse, atomic disperse,
the ship that he trusted took form of a hearse.
But somewhere along the Milky Highway,
Andromeda welcomed the artist to stay.
Cosmic dust used for paint, the sky used for paper,
universally sanctioned galactic landscaper.
Somewhere between Pluto and Mars,
there is an astronaut artist who’s one of the stars.
Some nights, if you gaze, you’ll see him shine bright—
smile up at the artist and wish him goodnight.
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