Look north, my son.
I've placed you there after discussions with Him.
There you will stay until the shimmer dies down.
Even if Earth loses interest in your glorious lifestyle,
you will remain there watching over us all.

Your lights sparkle along with Hercules;
your arms arch beside Apollo.
Now, you have a pattern of your own,
along which children trace their names
with their fingertips.

Haven't you always wanted to be loved?
Loved by millions? Billions? Trillions?
Here you are, with the love of countless,
scattered across an ever growing black plane,
dotted with stories least comparable to yours.

Hunt, my son, hunt like you lived.
With Major and Minor, your loyal hounds, you can pursue,
among supernovae and white dwarfs, you'll hunt.
As you carry on, at a luminance speed,
your belt of three bright diamonds will glimmer.

Here tonight, alone, I gaze up at wonderous you.
I held you for years, even when you were a strong man.
There has never been a father more proud than myself.
With what beauty you have been graced with on land,
And with what beauty you have been graced with in the heavens.

My son, Orion.