I stand on the threshold of the river of stars, and watch the celestial fishermen dip their nets to catch the aërytids and elusive sidhe that glide through the empyrean. Upon the riverbed the stars flash and glitter, pebbles amidst the sands of time, stretching into eternity. I look, I seek that hither shore, but even my eyes cannot pass the infinite horizon.
Ah, my beloved! I yearn for you, you who stand upon that other threshold, searching as I do, for something beyond my mortal vision. When shall I cross the great Sky River? When shall I behold your face? When will the Wanderer wander no more?
With apologies to David Lunde, whom I haven’t read at all. I just adore the title.