The darkness of my endeavour has created a pretender. It lacks the cool feel and comforting embrace of the original. Forgive those two errors and you have a night sky like any other. In it the wandering stars that light my way. I can watch them as they stray. They gather and scatter letting the stories of my witnesses find their way.
I shall pick every star from it, leaving it black, leave it to fade. When I am done only the constant stars will keep their place. I know one from another and there is no chance of mistake or escape. The pretender has an advantage in that sun light can not chase it away. The harsh light of day, can beat me down but can not hide them away.