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If I ever am to reach you I doubt that it will be 
Deep in the frozen fields of stars 
Where we've roamed occasionally; 
With our talk of the Hunter, 
Of the Seven Sisters' lights, 
Of Castor and Pollux and a honeycomb 
Deep in the lion's side; 
Of the Southern Cross from Brownsville, 
The northern lights from Calgary, 
Of the Hydra's final hateful head 
Still deep in all our dreams. 

Lover, let me trace then 
This small vein within your hand, 
Through the chambers of the universe 
Composed where you stand; 
As equally eccentric, 
As mute with ancient signs, 
Where creation's light shines just as bright 
As those lanterns in the sky. 
Charting there my passage, 
Wherein I have roamed, 
I will come to you upon that shore 
And the myths will be my own.

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