<u>Teardrops of Entropy</u>


    <u> </u>


    Worlds spin about a dying star,


    A silent troupe of dancers in the void,


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    Fearing not that nova flame


    Shall inevitably destroy.


    And so the astronomer will look up and smile


    At the cold majesty of boundless sky


    From such distance he sees just beauty


    While the victims wonder why.


    Yet worry not life’s discontent,


    It’s born of fears unseen,


    And though chaos shall strive forevermore


    ‘tis just grey pallor to beauty’s dream.