Destruction of the Devil

He fell, yet held to denial She'd gone several seasons to send him to hell Cold iron rod was insufficient to smash him She saw and stretched for the sledge His face of caramel caved, dwindled he like a drunk Rage of storm flung him fast amidst junk. Astronomical lift cushioned her Keen students returned respect, while she waged war For the culprit, that aged false balm intent to win - One would glean, Neil deGrasse Tyson discerned her dreams He knew folk art, martial art, art of other sort His gift lingered long like caution to one For he stood as master of space she graced She who observed in awe his wit, felt aroused. Then and there, she feared no more the devil's lure Weapons herculean lay wait She pounced and pound, his faint voice drowned. She lunged, sledgehammered away his head Specialists would haul and burn remains, joy and pain, touch of rain, prelude to spring renewal. *