The story of the stars
is like freshly painted flashing cars
All the opaqueness of the dark
only brightens their crystalline spark
The story of the sun
is a thriller film when night is done
This livewire torch on earth’s face
is life’s timeless saving grace
The story of the moon
is in its spritely gliding silver spoon
It relentlessly tugs at the tides
Even when it rests and hides
But an invisible spirit is my silence
Reclused to avoid honesty’s violence
The seashells and stones of my tale
will never have any ears to avail
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