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.