Passing Nightshade

 

- a poem on stars

 

Tumbling blocks of dazzling light, rumbling towers held in flight,

Holding ground, far and near, twisting flame, shining sphere.

Dotted scene, knotted shapes, distinct form, on darkened ‘scapes,

Mapped on minds, held with fear, a sense of awe, and ever clear.

As fallen gods upon their thrones, azure and silver, all deep tones,

Fiery, flaming foxes hunt, tumbling bears, big and runt.

Distinct face– white on black– dog and man above, attack,

Their arrow-marks stain the sky, a painter’s magic set to fly.

These giants simmer, seethe and blend, waning to a boundless end,

But, sunrise pinks reveal their course, euphoric darkness shows the source.

The dusty moonlight turns to morn, aching light rivets, torn,

Breathless twilight hides its figure, hauled and bruising by the bigger.

   As fading dark gives way to light, this waking land emerges bright,

Scarlet blood slips down the hills, birthing light beckons, thrills.

Dazzling colours, scarlet sky, haunted forests, trees so high,

Birds begin their morning song and fly on journey’s far and long.

The day-break sun begins its rise to heights so glorious in these skies,

Gracing every bird and flower, tipping clouds bound to tower.

We see a beauty in this art, a streaming joy from God’s own heart,

Tender souls warm to this view, but hardened minds freeze out what’s true.

This scene soaked in celestial thought, an act from heaven captured, caught,

For it is here that hearts are made; it is here in past nightshade.