The Falling Star
The Falling Star
One night as the stars above
Lay dormant in the sky,
A burst of light
Through the pitch dark did arise.
Trailing glitter
In the inky blue ether,
Like flecks of hot lava
Erupting through a million fissures.
The stoic heavens
Thus looked alive,
With the golden embers
Shooting across the sky.
A shepherd lad
Clad in raiment frayed,
Gazed up in irreverence
At the fireworks thus displayed.
For sore want
Of instruction
And imagination
Assumes he a star is falling.
‘If catch this I
In my arms tonight,
Won’t it be to my sire’s
Utter delight?’
And resolved was he
To catch that falling star.
Abandoning his repose,
He ran afar.
Chase the shooting star he did,
Unrelenting,
For miles across the meadow,
Unending.
Till the fireworks faded
Into the rose-gold of the dawn.
The sun rendered the heavens yellow again;
The boy abandoned his chase in hot disdain.
76 years have passed
Since the naive child
Turned into a time-wisened,
Graybeard, barely alive.
With his one good eye
Anon he spies,
That heavenly object
Traversing the night.
This time knew he
Not a fallen star ’twas
But a comet rare,
A miracle of science and God.