Nearing nuisance point,
she hovers 'round him in his labors.
Planetary leaders have joined their neighbors
in mocking him, and even she is plagued by doubt.
Why?, she must ask.  What is it all about?
At last, Lara spake:

--     It is wrong, my love.

       --     He will be strong, my love.

--     But alone.

       --     Cease your moaning, woman.
              (Jor-El whispered)
              I do not wish that he should wake.

She obeyed, knowing now how grave
the situation; praying Rao save
her son if not herself.
Her son slept.  Her husband
gently set the child upon a bed
of blankets red and blue, which capped
a pedestal at the vessel's center;
then, Jor-El brought down the capsule's crown,
that would shield their son in his flight.
Above, their world's night bled crimson,
the stars seemed to quake, the ground
beneath their feet began to shake, and
Jor-El, with quivering voice, spake.
"Such a pity," he said, "their not listening."
His mate smiled and, letting flow tender tears,
kissed his brow.  "I fear no longer," she said,
"For now I know our history is not yet over.
 Due to your pure, noble efforts, my love,
 it, and we, will endure.
 Release him, my love, lend the stars our seed.
 It is my wish too; indeed,
 it is my last remaining need."
They stared at one another and embraced,
as, ignoring the cracking glass ceiling,
the man threw a lever and
his issue lifted into space.
In wake of their progeny's launch
the lovers were burned to ashes,
and so were spared the sensations
of Krypton's final self-destruction,
an ignominious sequence of crashes
that might have been preempted.
Pride was that people's great disgrace;
through it many a civilization passes.
The fortunate ones leave a living trace.
This time it takes the form
of a baby's beaming face.