Heart of Stars
If mind's poetry rises from roots to crown and follows the breath that leads back to Asgard, there is hope the soul may know its home galactic, and know its place in the cosmic tree whose branches stretch out to the farthest stars, to which it is connected merely by sitting out by night and wondering.
Here no religion needed, not even those wondrous tales called myths, just the boldness to dare beyond what space or time seldom tell, and know, this, this I behold, this wondrous stuff so shaped in mystery by the hands of time, is not all, but the mere manifestation of mysteries far deeper that fall down into the greatest roots of all things, and in turn expand out into the farthest reaches beyond all stars. All things one great waterfall and evaporation that in turn rains down again.
This is your wizard-mind, that spins out from some stuff called body, and follows breath on wind into furthest aethers where deep, mysterious powers drink nectar about the high seat of the great wizard, the one who knows all riddles, the one whose mind tumbles with the cosmos as on a horse who rides the eight winds down and through the trunk of that majestic tree in whose boughs all lights spin and shine, and whose roots lie in the heart of all wyrd, drawing up refreshed from what has been. Crazed, yes, you'll hear it in his name, and vertigo's his mind's jazz played turbulent upon the out-of-mind journeys he so loves to tame on the open ways.
Know these truths, and your mind will go beyond all bonds set down in the halls of time by race or tribe, and all heirlooms passed down from the ancestors shall transform from opaque to crystalline transparence through which the light of ages might shine. Breathe out upon this breath, follow aethers wither they go, and no ties shall ever hold you back from full voyages, whence you go where you might. God's wizard-mind would have you wonder, if you would know at all. Only fools fail to awe.