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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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Copyright © Thomas Anderson, Angry Young Grad Student Music