C.S. Simpson

“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.”
― William Shakespeare, Macbeth

“I’ve seen a greater share of wonders, vast
And small, than most have done. My peace is made;
My breathing slows. I could not ask for more.
To reach beyond the stuff of day-to-day
Is worth this life of mine. Our kind is meant
To search and seek among the outer bounds,
And when we land upon a distant shore,
To seek another yet farther still. Enough.
The silence grows. My strength has fled, and Sol
Become a faded gleam, and now I wait,
A Viking laid to rest atop his ship.
Though fire won’t send me off, but cold and ice,
And forever shall I drift alone.
No king of old had such a stately bier,
Adorned with metals dark and grey, nor such
A hoard of gems to grace his somber tomb.
I check my straps; I cross my arms, prepare
Myself to once again venture into the
Unknown, content to face my end and pass
Beyond this mortal realm, content to hold
And wait and here to sleep—
To sleep in a sea of stars.
—THE FARTHEST SHORE 48–70
HARROW GLANTZER”
― Christopher Paolini, To Sleep in a Sea of Stars