the fiery furnace of how they glow
the factory of each and every thing
shot forth into the solar ring.
But I suppose it's just as well
to believe in strange and magic spells
and feel the vast and powerful space
is just the background for your face.
That each and every star that shines
where may live, in other climes,
on worlds too distant to ever see
some other race of humanity,
and all the chance
that is their world
has no meaning but for words
these shinning stars that fill the sky
a simile then, for your eyes.
We are brave to risk creation's shores;
the grinding rock and metal walls,
the hopes that ride the risks of chance
in hopes of what?
but love's sweet dance.
pvzm, 2013
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