The gods of space

The gods of space rule long in virtues true,
Far, far in Epsilon Bootees, the star,
We see their visions bright in perfect view,
We see their love of souls without a scare;
So great the love of these creatures of right,
Their ark of space is a million years old,
Like steady glide of prime ancient sting ray,
Is their time ark that rides in hearts of gold.
But time has come to form the sons of earth,
The Dogon race of Mali’s timeless fame –
So arks are sent to Mali’s soil to berth –
To berth in soils of peace with blameless name.
Today, we see Epsilon star of yore,
As it shines bright upon fair Dogon’s lore.

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