How I began my life looking at the stars ...(thanks to G. Rakozy for this photo/Unsplash~)
The Sun filters into silent mornings as
always but there is a battle raging above,
for withering upon that skylight's vine,
the Light of stars is dying so fast
within the heavens and who could not
but help fight against such solar
intrusions that hollow out their light
and erases their dwelling places among
those so wishing to see them? No longer
does "twinkling of an eye" fit such a
place, for from the brightest shades of
shine our constellations break apart,
their spindle limbs drawn on chalkboards
outlining what gods they were or represented
now appear like pewter as planets like Venus
too bid goodbye as the furnace fires up, we
bathe in it's photons for another day...for
these stars now become metallic trinkets
floating in our immediate memory, for in broad
daylight we imagine where they are exactly
though we have no way of knowing where in
that cold, unforgiving void.
But they are there.
We spend out time worshiping not just the Sun,
but all other Suns we can see, collections of
Suns spinning and spiraling or emerging from
distant nurseries from galactic places and
majestic galaxies. So we reason ... why only
worship One? As garden variety as ours is, I
oft-wondered if God had a mail order catalogue
and ordered ours when I was a kid, for Sears
was another name for burning, yes? Father was
not happy with that analogy either, and told
me that all the burning could be found in that
terrible place called "hell".
That ended that mystery.
To me, I worship God best when I peer into
The Vault above, and see incredible works before
me and realize too that I'm just a tiny bit of
protoplasm .... with a brain. But tiny never-
the-less. No longer do I question my Maker's
authenticity, nor make small jokes about He.
If there is one wish for me to realize before I
die, it is I wish to see Betelguese become a
Supernova: I'd love to read my books by it's
Light which would be visible here during the
No guessers need apply.