Going abruptly into a starry night br It is ignorance we blink from, dark, unhoused; br There is a gaze of animal delight br Before the human vision. Then, aroused br To nebulous danger, we may look for easy stars, br Orion and the Dipper; but they are not ours, br br These learned fields. Dark and ignorant, br Unable to see here what our forebears saw, br We keep some fear of random firmament br Vestigial in us. And we think, Ah, br If I had lived then, when these stories were made up, I br Could have found more likely pictures in haphazard sky. br br But this is not so. Indeed, we have proved fools br When it comes to myths and images. A few br Old bestiaries, pantheons and tools br Translated to the heavens years ago— br Scales and hunter, goat and horologe—are all br That save us when, time and again, our systems fall. br br And what would we do, given a fresh sky br And our dearth of image? Our fears, our few beliefs br Do not have shapes. They are like that astral way br We have called milky, vague stars and star-reefs br That were shapeless even to the fecund eye of myth— br Surely these are no forms to start a zodiac with. br br To keep the sky free of luxurious shapes br Is an occupation for most of us, the mind br Free of luxurious thoughts. If we choose to escape, br What venial constellations will unwind br Around a point of light, and then cannot be found br Another night or by another man or from other ground. br br As for me, I would find faces there, br Or perhaps one face I have long taken for guide; br Far-fetched, maybe, like Cygnus, but as fair, br And a constellation anyone could read br Once it was pointed out; an enlightenment of night, br The way the pronoun you will turn dark verses bright.br br William Morris Meredith Jr.