Son of the southern cross

Born beneath its pointed spokes.

Always there.

Thick or thin.

Better than any friend.

Unconditional in its companion.

Ready to point you in direction.

Shining brighter than its bed.

Ready to guard you from

The wrong path.

Its friend to those that

Set eyes upon it.

eternity and true.

As it will never lie.

Heads a sleeping,

It’s a watching.

With its own companions.

The Emu n seven sisters.

As they arch across the southern sky,

Perpetual motion.

Above the commotion of nocturnal spirits,

That wonder nightly across this

Great southern land.