I have sailed the ocean of night to strange shores.  Blown by whispered winds of the looking stars towards their sons.  My sails stretched by the names they call to me: names of my not-yet, my never, and my past.  Balancing the treachery of the sea song by the measure of the compass true, I am beckoned to still pools and tempest too.  Unbound in my unknowing the ways, I seek paths in dark lit waves.  And the strike of leviathan or creature deep quakes my vessel in the black waters.  The doubt of nothingness between the shores is immense.  Could I sink between the suns and who would find me there?  What is the measure of the night expanse? And me a mite upon its face, a blemish on the perfect dark.  Is home forwards or backwards; a man says both, a fat phantom of undoing paradox.  Both you say? But I have no song to follow save the liquid verse of siren suns.  Home is lost or never was.  It is a curse to my ears that taints the word of every land.  No shore can hold me long before I am cast out.  Reviled and unwanted, the vessel me.  My odyssey is a satire of hero, Penelope remarried.  I have no Argo and my fleece is not the yellow of gold.  Who would call me captain? I cannot master my own words to you.  My rudder is rent and useless.  The tunes of quiet ancient light master me and I will be wrecked.  The stars' promise untrue as I test every one, the fickle fellow fast besot by sunny light in waves of night.

Cast anchor and rest, traveler.  The true star seeks you and does not waver like unto you.  Listen for your name in the silence of surrender.  It is the name of another, but it is given you for your safe travel. Once aright, set sail to this Sun's prismatic tune.  Your lyric is light and it is free.

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