I was born into the company of stars,
into a cold and distant reception of
nameless, flickering photographs.
I was unaware of my solitude.
I didn’t know the lights that littered the canopy
had already been put out.
When I did discern this, my division
grew colder, grew bitter with but
snuffed tapers about me. Their
thin wisps of dissipating silk
only served to worsen my loneliness.
Space may have arrayed its yawning maw
with a smile of shining teeth,
but I could not see their beauty,
for the lie in their light, betrayed.
I could not make a connection
with a sky of dying breaths.
the horizon spoke,
a golden thread unknown to me
with my unliving sky. The horizon
came aglow and poked its countless
spokes across the source of my despair.
I could tell this light was different
as it thrilled the filling air.
The rays of red and marigold
gathered in a knot upon that
burning thread. You know,
I dazzled at what they caught:
a wholly boiling diadem
like nothing I’d ever seen,
all alive in its ascent,
blazing and roiling.
You must have seen it
countless times, observed its
victorious morning climb,
and maybe it means as much
to you, but by that risen light
I knew that the melancholy midnight
blue had not reflected truth.
Here there was a living light,
no mere spectre of a bygone star,
but shining still as its rays
reached me, bathed me in
newborn saffron warmth…
and lit the millions likewise enlivened,
we each now aware
of our collective form.