A Sigh of a Star

Doubtless, for some, in an
explosion of music and brief words,
God made the stars, galaxies and
universes, dimensions unknown. And
now we, somewhere in between, look in

a direction we consider up, and are
astounded by the imprint of
these words on the sky. Perhaps
we look upon the works of that
abstract God with a sigh. If I lived

in a space less polluted with
incandescent light poles, I would on
clear nights—having, too, never known
electricity—stare sleepless at the pierced
darkness and story something wonderful.

But alas I’m spoiled with the knowledge
of combustion, and in flashes of keen
aloofness, the gasses of the stars, beautiful,
frighten me, for the lengths some go
to harness on our small globe celestial

energy, all the while allowing the doses
of cupcakes to finitely take residence
in what some have come to consider
deteriorating soul storage units, what some
think to be mere matter of physiology.

Stars, mind this, you are alluring,
you point to some beyond, but today
we need to hear a new song and recite
a new verse, something erupting from within
a still burning, some more final word of

creation, some silence, deep, honestly
voiced breath, quiet and open, unassuming,
conversing not informing.