The moons reflected off the spires of the tower as I watched them raise the flag.
Such an archaic gesture meant to make people proud.
I find myself drawn into the celebrations as the Triarchy gains itself a new member replacing the one just lost.
The colours beam down from the palisades showing the beauty of the stars.
I never understood why we could only wear white at the Jubilee, until I was in it.
The colours.
The riotous, mad panorama that shines upon the humans and the world they have made.
Some claim the whole race is mad.
Others say merely creative.
But this environment where we are all plain, wearing the colour that is all colours – white, then finding ourselves awash in the rainbow of starlight we are all equal.
Prismatic colours that force you to blink because they could not, should not exist.
Yet they do.
The lines streaking past your eyes as you try to take everything in.
I have recorded only three Jubilees in my lifetime and each one leaves me breathless, unable to stop crying.
The Triarchy has not come to an end, though there will always be dissenters.
I am not here for the politics.
I am here for the display given life through the ice palace’s windows.
Forever will I marvel at the simple engineering feat that allows such beauty into this world.
I am Saturn’s child.
Saturn's Premier Poet 