by Nick Gisburne
We wear it on the aether ships we tame
The highest and the lowest, rich or poor
A pendant, crooked cogwheels, forged in flame
A charm, for luck, a token to be sure
We harvest threads of aether from the sky
The veins are rich, but thick with dark debris
We dance with danger, knowing we may die
And kiss the cogs to set our troubles free
If greed betrays the careless in the clouds
Tenacity is hammered on our hearts
Farewell to anxious lovers, cheering crowds
The ship of dauntless aeronauts departs
We sail beyond the clouds to claim our prize
The harvest, threads of aether, from the skies
