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What Sailors Know
By: Hay Machine
There are pinholes in the universe
burning stars of gold
high in the night's blue ceiling
so many a million-fold
The smallest holes imaginable
and millions of miles away
where lights from the yellow heavens shine
in splinters of golden spray
The sailors who made this magic
at sea on a cloudless night
sail home by these golden pinholes
when the moon is their only light
Their charts once pinned with
thumb-tacks
their maps to plot the way
they pressed them to the heavens
with prayers to help them stay
When the charts like clouds had
softened
they dropped as sleet and snow
but the thumb-tacks left their pinholes
and that's what sailors know
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