Twas the Night Before Phoebe

‘Twas the night before Phoebe, and all ’round the region

capsuleers were all cheering, (except Pandemic Legion)

Some decried their suitcases would be covered in dust

and Shadow Cartel’s titans would certainly rust.
But ratters and carebears and pilots of small ops

were happy they could fly with less fear of blops drops.

And others in Sov were equally blissed

while many big coalitions were totally pissed.
But the complaints about logistics and freighters were heard

so freighters and rorquals wouldn’t be nerfed, was the word.

And blops (so frightening) would get only a small nerf

So alliances could still use them to protect their home turf.
So, in the days before Phoebe plans were all put into place

to move assets around and even trade space.

Goonies and Legion, and Shadow Cartel

Traded this for that from Geminate to Delve.

Move Nyxes! Move Thannies! And Moroses too

Wyverns an Hels, you know what to do!

Light up those cynos, in the north and the south

From east and from west, move them all NOW!
Because in just one days time, fatigue is our bane,

and a limit of five light years is a changer of game.

Projection of force is up in the air,

but whatever happens will make things more fair.
How will it work out when we run out of gas

trying to cross Immensea, or Bob-forbid even Impass.

How will we make sure those pesky ratters will be gone

if we can’t hot drop a drake with our shiny Archons?
How will Eve change? I don’t know, but it will.

It will be hard to swallow, like a dose of Blue Pill.

If you want some advice, I’ll give you a freebie,

and tell you, you’ll find out, right after Phoebe.
The following poem was copied from Reddit and written by Robaticus. The original post can be found here. Great work!