Behind the sky's cane is a wormhole and the remnants of my galaxy grandmother.  My homeland was here a billion years ago, and in parallel universes, my other version and my friends who do not die exist.  I turn the oysters of time to gather the souls of the dead; I see the falsity of history.  I implore a star to embed its femininity in my soul and violate the sea.  Narsees does not know himself, singing like a wounded seagull on a salty rock.  The homeland is green; darkness will pass over the walls of Babylon, and the sun of Sumer will rise again.