Apollo 00

We are varying fragments on an open sea with brocken arrows that lead where chance doth take, we take to the lense to see beyond our reach and in thier empty barrels we add our faith, but how quick we are to anchor when a storm sets in and so cast our faith to the unknown depths were it ought to reach. Our heavy sighs are the whistles of a anarch wind that will not sing and our weary tears are the palate of a brimming sea that will not spill. Amidst an ocean treasure-trove of many a brocken arrow we sail forth Beneath a dotted sky, we find relief in the fleeting hopes in our sleeping visions of speedy journeys to the east, and to he who takes to the stars for the way, we point him out in jest and call him a star gazer.