On the fifth of September, Nineteen seventy-seven, The voyager began his journey He was the first to take the grand tour The mission was ambitious, though simple; He was to go where no man had gone He was to see what was to see And he was to tell us tales Vivid stories of giants, of undreamed landscapes, and terrible gods. He went forward on his voyage Without complaint He had been trained well His armour finely crafted He knew he was not to return But he knew, too, that this was a grand honour When he dies, he will not stop He will sail on He will have with him a gift So that when his body is discovered By some foreign power They would know that they are not alone And that we extend our hand to them His first stop was with a timid little god But he spent little time with this god of war Wanting nothing to do with such a brute There was no glory to be had Staying with the bland god So he departed for the King of the Gods Mighty Jove The god of laws and order He saw the god's great red spot He saw the god's rings And he gasped at his halo While he was struck dumb at his size The king-god did only smile The voyager examined the king-god Every minute detail he could see And before his road forced him on He sent a letter home After departing the hall of the god-king He came to Saturnus, the god of harvest and dance, strength and justice. While inside, he is hot-blooded and fiery, his face is cold and bleak The words he speaks are harsh, his wit is quick; Any one defying him will be torn apart The voyager fled from this god, but he sent his friends and family a message He said that all was fine, and discussed in detail the god and his servants But the road goes ever on and on And so he moved further The next step was the god Ouranos, the god of air and sky, the son and husband of Mother Earth, Gaia Little was noteworthy for the voyager For he was old now, and jaded And was losing faith Piece by piece, his body was shutting down He would sail on, that would not stop But it was getting harder and harder to see and write In twenty oh-seven, he could no longer wield his PLS Twenty oh-eight, his PRA was too heavy for him In twenty-ten, his UVS no longer served him In twenty-fifteen, his DTR will fail him. In twenty-sixteen, he will lose his sense of balance In twenty-twenty, his limbs will become useless And in twenty-twenty five, he dies. The mighty voyager sails on forever In the eternal, dark abyss Home has no meaning anymore It's not even a pale blue dot The brave voyager went forth In the name of progress, knowledge And the pioneer spirit And in the name of exploration, the dedication to knowing of the unknown, He gave his life.