Alpha Centauri

A warm solar wind blows steadily against the topsails of my Lady Luna. Once the fastest schooner in the whole fleet of ‘em, she presently drifts wounded yet serenely within a single trough of a cerulean colored cosmic wave.

I deem her bow piercing the rolling stardust with the gentlest of touch; a touch not unlike that of a mother parting the hair of a newborn babe as it suckles quietly with eyes closed.

I stand to the stern hand to the helm and gaze afar off and out beyond the purple hues of a distant dying star, knowing not where my Lady should lead me.