The City is dead. But yet a means to a beginning. The others squander, With attempts at resurrection, Or petty secrets. But we are Astro-Mercenaries. We see a purpose in the Death. A light in the Darkness. We deny Ourselves passage On the back of a decrepit God; Cowering in the remnants of its dying light. We take hold of Our own destiny. Rather than reliving the glories Of days of future passed, We tear down these monuments to our sins And turn their “Golden” artifacts Into the cosmic fleet of a new Orbit. A Dead Orbit.