Voice of The Stars

The Stars Speak


To what kind of cosmos do I belong
And what pattern or value does it hold?
Among the nebulae and nova, strung upon the heavenly horizon
I see wonders and fearful conflicts arise and diminish
All the glory of light shatters the blank abyss
And stars I cannot behold are promised to be
Somewhere I may never tread
What kind of universe am I afloat within?
Does it know, or think, or care?
And what future has it in store for me
For sun and this pretty world?
Can it be a death, a memorial of glory dying?
Is it stretched to breaking point, and yearning to return to nothing?
Will it take me with it, on it's final journey?
As grey clouds mass gently above my brow
And drops caress my world with indifference
I wonder, about all things
And those that came before
Who gazed at skies and loved our moon
Who marveled at our star, yet feared it's wrath
And I ask myself
What difference does it make
Whether we were meant to be
Or whether we are not a thought
Is this vastness a universe of despair
Where hope is vain and cruel?
And unbridled power chooses planets and peoples
Is this place so cold
Where there is no plan, no thought, no intention?
Are these hollow glories as cold as the barren planets
As empty as the lunar seas?
For if all is collide and collapse
And all patterns and platitudes meaningless and random
Then the greatest echo of the cosmos is sadness
Until all is no more
And time is spent and gone
Is it true?
Shall I weep for men, for earth, for stars?
What stays these tears?
It is the impossible, the unanswerable
The chorus of question and the fathom of joy
If this was meant to be
If light gives birth to life
And the universe gives birth to music
What more is to come?
There can be only one answer
Despair and destruction
Or design and deliverance
What do the stars tell me?
They whisper
A secret
They point the way