A brilliant gleam of brightest light on sky of velvet black
that doubles on itself and turns until it has turned back -
across the sky it cuts a slice of color radiant pure,
but then retracts to origin as if just not quite sure.
Oh, star, you move and move again - retrace your graceful fall
and warp me back to glimmer's glimpse then back to dark night's call.
Your radiance, repetitive, grows dizzy in the night
and, Falling Star, you lose it all and end your jagged flight.
Now darkness closes all around the slice that you had forged
and all that was your lasar show is swallowed in its gorge.
And I am left to gaze again at prickled points of light
that never in their stationed roles could ever bear your flight.
But though this night is crisply cold and dawn seems far away,
I know that in the sunlight, I'll awaken soon to play.
A point of light or streak of light, no matter how it flies,
will never hold the light of sun to fill forever's skies.
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