Sometimes it is impossible
To look at the night sky
And not think of death,

How it too can be beautiful,
How many of these stars
Died uncountable years ago

And how in the brief moment
Of their ending their radiance
Exploded in a pulse of light

No different than Creation
Must have been when God
Flung them from His mind,

Filling infinity with light and life
Moving always to dark and death.
How the light that began in them

Has come all this way to end in me.

Poetry by countryfog
Read 1475 times
Written on 2011-03-08 at 16:44

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Very gracefully written, as always, Fog.

We are made of the stuff of stars
We will become the stuff of stars
From the stars we will become ourselves anew

Wonderful poem, but oh, so very sad. I hope there will be a day that your light will shine brightly. Applauds to you...

melanie sue
How many of us stargazers are out there? How many never look? How many wonder and are filled with wonderment? This poem says it all. Excellent work.

John Ashleigh
I always look at the stars, and wonder what connection we personally have to the unknown. Yet, you ask everything in this poem that we subconsciously want answers to. I shall have to bookmark this.

You make me think.