The emperor wanted back his legions,
The mad king his new world colonies.
The creator only wanted back the stars.
Enough with the vast amounts of dark,
Dragging black curtains across the sky,
Dark matter, dark energy, dark prophecy.
He sulked in front of unimpressive canvas,
The artist with no new ideas. He had to admit,
However, finally, that the only thing making
His cosmos mysterious, featureless, and dull
Was that there were so many trivial, sparkling
Lights around here recently. Lights washed out
His dim distance and stuffed his darkness full.
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