Dormant, I dwell beneath the dome of stars. My detonator destroyed – damaged I meet my doom amidst devastation.

My devisers developed data on their day-star. They discovered it was a dwarf, and was devolving rapidly.

Then came their deadly dispute, for which I was designed and deployed. But my destiny was to remain, defunct, detritus.

The victors despoiled the land and decamped into the depths. The defeated despaired. Died.

The dwarf dimmed, and darkness descended; the atmosphere sublimed, departed. Dust and debris deposited on the denuded surface.

Yet in this, my desert demesne, I endure. I descry the distant suns, that they diminish with the days. And I despise those that detonate, for to me that end is denied.