Pluto's Echo

Beyond the giants where the sunlight fades, A lonely wanderer in starlight's shades. No longer counted in the ordered line, A whispered echo, "Was this space once mine?" A frozen heart of nitrogen and ice, A landscape sculpted by a cosmic vice. Charon, its shadow, in a close embrace, A binary ballet in a desolate space. No fiery storms, no swirling vibrant hue, Just muted whispers of the distant blue Of Neptune's gaze, a neighbor far away, That once defined its solitary day. Demoted now, a dwarf in stellar lore, Has gravity's decree closed every door? Does size define the wonder it can hold? A world unseen, a story left untold. Perhaps its smallness holds a different key, A relic pure of cosmic infancy. A frozen whisper of creation's dawn, Before the giants on their thrones were drawn. It orbits still, a testament to time, A silent witness to the grand sublime. Unburdened now by planetary claim, It carves its path, a solitary flame. And as we gaze with telescopes afar, At icy plains beneath a dim cold star, We ponder worth and what it means to be, A part, yet separate, in immensity. So let us not forget the distant gleam, Of Pluto's echo in the solar dream. A reminder small in cosmic vastness spun, That every world holds wonders of its own. ©bfa041425