Surely it seemed long ago that promises were made
You and I, the spirits told our inner thoughts and dreams
And plans were made for travels far, so far away,
Yet lifetimes passed, stories cast, and now we’re left to pray.
For the skies display a mystery when Orion raises high
On the other rim Cassiopeia is setting slim
Ne’er shall they face each other, nor behold their sparkling eyes
Their prey, their pets, abandoned long ago.
Coarse is the path of history, less can be discerned
For all is displaced in the telling, retelling
The names, the dates, the places make us blind.
To what can be the truth if you’ve ever known?
Remember to drop the bread crumbs as you go.