Knocking, glancing, looping, swirling,
Bound together in this whirling,
Rolling swarm of outbound cinders;
Slag of the void, cold embers
That have known the crushing heat
Of some star guts’ pulsing beat
And then into deep space were spawned.
Their parent dead, there is no bond
To bind them; nomads they become,
Stray homeless stardust on the bum,
Weaving out through galaxies,
Plunging where their fancies please,
Till tiring of this endless tour
They find there is a yearning lure
In black starless Infinity:
An urge that will not let them be.
So beyond the last outposted
Sun they long ago have coasted.
What lies beyond? Who knows? Who cares?
This is a jolly gang who dares
The limits of the timeless shore
On which they’ll drift forevermore.
Note: Originally published in Thelema Lodge Calendar, February 1994.