The last time I tried this, it ended in holy hellfire.
I can only pray that this blessed abyss is not dispelled by another flame.
And yet here I am again,
Stretching across the light-years
To hitch my wagon to your inverted star.
Empirical evidence asserts there's no such thing,
But the steadfast pinion of Polaris
Was never fond of me.
I navigate by a different magnetic field altogether--
--after all, lots of planets have a north.
And what is a compass without a direction?--
--useless to one who cannot bear to stay put a moment longer.
Your brilliance is not one that shines,
Does not blaze across space as a beacon for all to see,
But instead lies in that which is subtle and hidden and dark.
I find it hard to put my faith in orbital mechanics alone.
Gravity, indeed, works against us,
And every tortuous mile is hard-won
In a craft powered by nothing
But starshine and void entwined.