Folks reckoned the Earth is so rare
that the rest of all space must be bare
and empty of creatures,
but among all their teachers
one asserted what most wouldn’t dare.
That philosopher’s surname was Bruno.
His claim? We’re not numero uno
and each star is a sun—
that there’s not merely one
but bajillions!—a thing we now do know?
But for a heretical scholar,
it could be quite risky to holler
that we’re not the hub
of existence, ’cause, bub,
you will blaze from your shoes past your collar.
______________
(Appeared in The Asses of Parnassus.)
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