Polestar
A dying star, her anxious heart
Clings to life with ancient roots
Lest all her fertile seed and soil
Fall barren for the want of proof
Ether-made bones ebb and fold
No sickly marrow yet to form
Though riven be the skin from blood
And severed be the heart from home
Cynosure gold, polestar of youth
Keeps counsel with the pulsing sea
While fading lambent tongues of flame
Beat the drums of the Aurae
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