Postlude: Phoebe Alone

Born in a furnace hotter than flame
Spinning and cooling, rock with no name.
We are her sister, blue green and white
How did we reach her, sundered by night?

We the bright bauble, she a dull stone
We had the blessings she's never known
Always towards us her stricken face,
Watching us, waiting, swinging through space.
Swinging through space.