Some tell me the stars
Hold me, describing my fate;
I think they shine light
Into the deepest darkness
Lending me strength to begin.
When the sky above
Burns like a bonfire aflame
Upon such a plane
The confusion enhances
Every blessed moment timed.
I plucked, like fine fruit
For display, banquet, table,
Where grace finds its place
Making everything stable
Until dawn convenes with song.
Rich the scattered hours
No creature may fast devour,
But explosive spent
In ceaseless labor unmeant
To torture the evening ways.
The stars have lived long,
Being a beginning staid,
Forever music
Played those spheres united, untied,
What we know, guess, still survives.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Haphazard Creative 