The Tale of Astro

Upon a night of tempest drear,
There strode a boy, lone and austere.
Clad in a mantle of brightest lime,
A wanderer lost to space and time.

Astro, they called him—his name,
A whisper of celestial fame.
'Twas murmured low, in awe and fear,
That from the distant stars came he here.

None among them shared his light,
A beacon bold against the night.
Yet though he stood, steadfast and true,
His world was cast in shades of blue.

Many claimed his fate was cursed,
A life ill-starred, a doom rehearsed.
Yet in his toil, they found their gain,
Whilst he bore all, alone, in pain.

The stars he tended, night and day,
That none might ever go astray.
Each eve he played with orbs so bright,
That all might gaze in pure delight.

Alas, how cruel is mankind’s art—
To praise too late a weary heart.
For not a soul had cared to weep,
Until he lay in endless sleep.