Being, Invincibly

Now shines the last star arising before skyfall is done. Every pin-point, distinct lamp burns, its starry footprint visible for miles (And those that guide the dawn) You tell yourself Other stars you're seeing, many miles above are the same storied stars seen before the first lamps were lit, there even before books existed; this is how the night-time scribbles its bright, wandering cyphers across the blue template evening brings, behind ambered curtains. Glassy shards of starlight cached like lightning bolts at well-bottoms and when that dusky night opens and reflects deeply into it, pools light up that can scarcely reach the shimmering silence above (Like the iris of god opening a shutter, and old lovers are reborn or some angel's work gets done) Every tale of new worlds lies chambered within; all the characters someday you'll become, before you awaken shivering from your dreams (as the day extinguishes the circumnavigating rondels of darkness) into the never-still pole star of being, invincibly.