Like an insect on the cool side
Of a burning plank,
I set my anchor on the rim
Of space and ride the hook
On the edge of eternity.

I lay out proper scope to remain secure
Thru all the turmoil of this anchorage.
Now all is simply quiet motion;
Movement with the tide;
Reality melts in the darkness
And I know my place is consumable.
It matters not.

The rising Sun may be flame coming
To my place in time and Cosmos,
Despite the gurgling water on my hulls sheer lines.
Not now.
Not at this moment.

Was it thus when Liaisartx descended
And removed my seaweed mask
And implanted the original
Fragment of stardust in my blood.

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