Under the banner of a wandering star I ponder in wonder at all that you are Bemused, the treasure of the fallen night with awe and majesty, this immortal delight Keeps me going with all that it is, all that it seems The moon, my captain, the storehouse of dreams. Tis all that was and will be what small baubles these words to be had pass away forgotten in the simple night of history. And the parting between generations beneath the faded milky way who set their eyes each on stars uncharted, yet strangely familiar. This is our story. A history of forgetting. Forgetting, and becoming what we once were.