By Elvira

Shattered                    glass                suspended
from the sky
Planets rotate,                        some dead
some alive
No Human has walked            their
surface —
their beauty    pristine,
unsullied by human pride —
no flag
no claim
no creating little
dogmas                       of one rite

Nighttime —
their beauty
one pinpoint
on velvet
No king can wear
them on a mantle
no queen’s beauty                   can surpass
They are free to sail
on their
to infinity

No scientist, I
can not
explain their basic
it is ONLY                    to know
their beauty;
astounds          each morning
before the Sun
burns them out.
Sing Praise
to the Maker —
for all we
sully                 this Star,
the others
move   in         Beauty.

April 2016


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