ZJI AI ^®

One day, I bought a meteorite,

Only to find it was just a piece of black iron in my hand.

But then I remembered a saying:

“Reach for the stars—

You may not grasp them,

But your hands will remain unsoiled.”

Phecda, the subtle star—

Not the brightest in the sky,

Nor the most distant or legendary,

Its name not sung by gods,

Yet it is the third light of the Big Dipper,

Quietly essential, hidden in plain sight.

Technology is a vast galaxy—

Some lights dazzle, some flicker and fade,

Some blaze briefly, then vanish.

Wisdom is like Alcor among the stars:

The simplest, most unassuming glimmer.

May we hold fast to our own corner of the sky,

Steadfast in vision, unwavering in purpose.

Like gazing at the Dipper each night,

Trusting in Phecda’s quiet, steadfast glow—

A romance grounded in resolve.