God, these are my thanks,
whispered so no one else will hear
and launched into the vasty Black
like a love-bladed boomerang.
I read it all, you know, the Book,
both paper and sinew,
and understand the origin of things.

It all comes from you, apparently, so here:
Thanks for the genius
that cushions my solitude;
for the sometime intrusion of others
who share this strange space;
for the brother who learned to be fearless;
for the thrum of home beneath my feet;
for this family, better than the last;

and for the Captain's fierce love
that keeps us aloft.